


In His Gallery

by hilandmum



Series: the sequel is in progress on the Fox/House boards. [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilandmum/pseuds/hilandmum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron meets the owner of an art gallery and romance ensues, but does he just want to add her to his collection?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Gallery

**Author's Note:**

> Post Cameron/Chase, House/Cuddy story written for the Fox/House boards and nominated for Rock The House 2010.

IN HIS GALLERY

This fic starts with the Chameron relationship ending, and Huddy over. It is eventually Hameron, but not until after some Cameron-O/C. It's based on the song of the same name. If you don't know it, the chorus goes:

I can't take  
Seeing you with him  
Cuz I know exactly what you'll be  
In his Gallery  
It's just not fair  
And it's tearing me apart  
Your just another priceless work of art  
In his Gallery

 

Chapter 1.

Allison Cameron smiled with her first sight of the tall, dark and handsome patient. Well-dressed, too, she noted. Granted, there was blood on his otherwise immaculate white dress shirt and a few drops on his navy and maroon striped tie. But that was understandable. He'd just been in a minor accident and flying glass had cut his chin just to the right of the cleft. His light brown eyes studied her as she deftly cleansed the cut.

"You won't need any stitches" she said, smiling at him. "Just keep it clean, Mr. Nickels, and it will heal quickly."

"It's Clayton," he said in a deep baritone voice, smiling back at her. "Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"I have been told that I'd make great lobby art." She chuckled. "OK, you're good to go" she said in dismissal.

"So soon?" He sounded disappointed.

She chuckled again. His attention made her feel good about herself on a truly awful day. She and Chase had had another row the night before, and he'd stormed off. He hadn't been back when she woke in the morning, not that she'd slept much. The only thing that had kept her from dwelling on the end of their relationship had been the large number of patients in the ER after the same accident that Clayton Nickels had been in.

"I wouldn't mind keeping you around to stroke my ego, but there are still more accident victims for me to tend to," she apologized.

"You will give me your number, won't you, Dr. Cameron?" he asked, holding eye contact.

She shook her head. "I don't fraternize with patients. It's unethical."

"But you just said that I was free to go, so I'm no longer a patient."

Persistent, wasn't he? But she couldn't bring herself to break a rule. "Sorry."

"Well, I'll just have to get it some other way," he said, getting off the exam table.

She smirked at him. He was both charming and irascible. "Goodbye, Mr. Nickels."

"It's Clayton," he reminded her again as he walked away.

Her eyes followed until he'd left the Emergency Room. She never expected to hear from him again.

\--

The fight the night before had been the last in a series of squabbles that had been escalating. She'd tried to keep her relationship with Chase going, really she had. He was all any girl could want, gorgeous to look at, intelligent and clever, charming when he wanted to be, and funny, too. And sex with him had also been very satisfying. In fact, he did everything he could to satisfy her in and out of bed.

She knew she should love him, but try as she might, she didn't. There were the little things that tended to irritate her, and the bigger things, too. Because of his desire to please her, he often left the decisions to her. Where to eat and sometimes even what. What movie to see, what concert to attend. At first it had seemed sweet, but it soon became a burden. Why was it always her job to choose?

He told her that he loved her. Often. And then expected her to reciprocate, but she couldn't lie. She made space in her life for him, and in her apartment, but there was no space for him in her heart.

And then there were the arguments about House. She'd told Chase often enough that she was over their former boss, that she'd come to see him as he really was. She realized that under that gruff and misanthropic exterior was a gruff and misanthropic man, a man who was totally self-centered and uncaring, interested only in his puzzles, rather than the man she'd originally thought him to be.

But she couldn't convince Chase, and sometimes when she was alone, she wondered if she was just fooling herself.

The ten minutes she'd spent with Clayton Nickels had driven all of her uneasiness and unhappiness away. She wasn't sure that she'd go out with him, that is, if he called her, but she knew it would be an enjoyable experience if she did, something that she'd had too infrequently in her lifetime.

\--

Two weeks went by before Cameron heard from Clay Nickels. They were two busy weeks, between the long shifts at the hospital and rearranging her life because of the break-up. She avoided Chase, but when she accidentally ran into him, she tried to be civil and so did he.

Arriving home from work late one Wednesday evening she saw the light flashing on her answering machine. She played back the message.

'Hello, Dr. Cameron. It's Clay Nickels. I hope you remember me, the guy who tried to cut a second cleft in his chin. Do you realize how hard it was to track down your phone number? But now that I have, I think I deserve a reward for my perseverance. How about having dinner with me tomorrow night? You can reach me here in town at 555-1234 or on my cell at 555-9876.'

Cameron stared at the phone. She had almost forgotten the handsome and charming man. But what should she do now? He was right, he wasn't a patient anymore, had only been one for a short while. And he had shown persistence.

She thought back to how he'd made her feel in the few minutes they'd spent together, and made a decision. Picking up the phone, she called him back.

"I knew you'd return my call," Clay answered his phone. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"You must have caller ID or else you're psychic," she replied, laughing at his confidence.

"So, you'll have dinner with me?" he asked again.

"Yes, but not tomorrow night. I have to work late. Is Friday good for you?"

"Any day that you can make it would be good," he crooned.

"Friday, then."

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said. "We'll go someplace special."

She took that to mean that she should dress well. "Do you know where I live?"

"Of course. Goodbye, Allison Cameron." He hung up.

"Goodbye," she echoed, then stared at the phone, wondering what had just happened and where it would lead.

 

Chapter 2.

Thursday was another busy and exhausting day, but Cameron frequently found herself distracted by thoughts about her upcoming date with Clayton. She still took the time when she got home to find out all she could about him. After a light dinner she sat down at her computer with a glass of wine at her side and Googled Clay. She found more information than she expected.

Clayton Bryce Nickels was an artist but not a very successful one. In 2000, he'd inherited a half a million dollars from his grandfather at the age of twenty-eight, and used it to open an art gallery. He became even wealthier selling other people's paintings, because, although he didn't have the talent himself, he had an eye for beautiful and desirable things. He now had galleries in New York, Philadelphia, and Paris, and of course, the original one in Princeton.

He'd never married, but appeared frequently at the most important social events, always with a beautiful woman on his arm. He had a house in Princeton, apartments in New York and Philly, as well as Paris and Los Angeles.

Cameron searched her closet to choose her dress for Friday night. She didn't have time to buy a new one, but she had a pale green sheath that hugged her few curves, accentuating them, and ended four inches above her knees, exposing her long and shapely legs. She'd worn the dress when Chase took her to one of the fancier restaurants in the area to celebrate six months together. The relationship had started to fall apart soon after that. Or had it been failing for even longer?

Clay showed up at her door on Friday right on time. He looked even more handsome than she remembered, this time in a charcoal gray suit and blindingly white shirt with a silver gray tie that magnified the intensity of his light brown eyes. When those eyes sparkled at the sight of her, she blushed. He handed her two dozen long-stemmed yellow roses.

"How did you know that I loved roses?" she asked, sniffing them and trying to remember where she'd last seen her cut-glass vase. "Especially yellow ones," she added as she finally located it. She arranged the flowers and some water in the vase, smiled as she admired them, then turned to him. "OK, I'm ready to go."

He smiled back, helped her on with her leather jacket, then took her arm to lead her out the door and then to his car. It was a shiny new black Mercedes. He certainly had beautiful possessions. They drove toward downtown Princeton.

"I thought we might give Annabel's a try," Clay said.

"That sounds lovely," she replied, trying not to sound impressed, but she'd heard that it was the best restaurant in the city. She and Chase, even with their doctors' salaries, couldn't afford to eat there.

Clay, however, was obviously a frequent diner. The hostess and maitre d' certainly knew him, and even the waiter assigned to their table greeted him deferentially as 'Mr. Nickels'.

As Cameron glanced at the menu and then around the elegantly furnished room, Clay asked "May I order for us?"

Cameron couldn't say no. She knew she'd never be able to decide among the many choices anyway, so she agreed. The menu tended toward French-sounding fare from steak au poivre to chicken cordon bleu.

Clay ordered a green salad with vinaigrette dressing for Cameron, and, for himself, a Caesar salad. "And the lady will have the chicken Diane. I'll have the salmon with Bearnaise sauce, and, of course, we'll have the 1995 Chateau Fontainbleu." He closed the menu and handed it to the waiter, who left.

"If you don't like the chicken, you can have some of my salmon," he told Cameron.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll love it."

It wasn't long before their salads were served, along with some sourdough bread, and the wine that Clay had ordered. The waiter poured a little for Clay to taste, and at his nod, filled both of their wine glasses.

The food, of course, was delicious, and the wine was perfect with it. Even though she loved the chicken, Clay insisted that Cameron taste the salmon, which was even better. By the time she finished, she was stuffed.

Throughout the dinner, they talked about themselves. Cameron wasn't ready to share all of her secrets with this charming man, at least not yet. But she did tell him a little:

"I became a doctor because I really like to care for people, and because I was fascinated with medicine." But the difficulties of achieving this goal for a beautiful young woman remained unspoken.

"Yes, I was married once, but he died." She didn't go into how, or the fact that they'd only been married for six months.

"My family lives in the Midwest, except for an aunt in Philadelphia." She deliberately omitted the fact that she rarely spoke to any of them.

He, in turn, told her "I was always interested in art, but frustrated that I couldn't put down on canvas what I saw in my head" and "My parents never understood my obsession, but my grandfather did."

The waiter came to clear away their dinner dishes and pour the last of the wine. "Dessert?" Clay asked, with a gleam in his eye.

"Oh, I couldn't!" she protested.

He ordered the chocolate mousse, then insisted that she try it, too. He fed alternate spoonfuls of the rich, sweet and smooth dessert to himself and to Cameron.

"Enough!" she finally had to say with a laugh, but it had been a fantastic dinner.

He was a perfect gentleman all evening. When he drove her home, he kissed her lightly at her door, didn't force his way in. All he said was, "I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did."

"Oh, yes!"

"Then you'll have dinner with me again tomorrow night?"

She smiled at the eagerness in his eyes. There was nothing that she'd like more. But weren't they going too fast? He was waiting for her reply. "Yes."

He nodded and walked away.

Over the next two weeks they saw each other every night that she wasn't working. He took her to a movie at the local art theater and then to a bistro he knew. He took her for Chinese food, Italian food, Hungarian food, wonderful restaurants but none quite as good as Annabel's.

After their third date, she invited him inside. They talked some more, and his kisses became more intense. Cameron found herself responding to them. His hands gently caressed her, but they didn't get beyond that until the sixth date.

He'd taken her back to Annabel's for another fabulous meal. Afterwards, he took her to his home out in the country but not too far from Princeton. It was the first time she'd seen the large house. Some might call it a mansion, she thought.

He brought her into the elegantly furnished living room, lit the fireplace even though it was comfortably warm without it, dimmed the lights so that there was just enough to see each other. He began by kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, and her lips. The slight buzz from the wine they'd had relaxed her so that when he began to kiss her neck and nibble her ears, she closed her eyes and gave in to her growing passion.

Clay proved to be, not only an experienced lover, but a tender, exciting and accomplished one. He savored every inch of her, taking his time yet conveying his need. With Chase, the main objective of their lovemaking had been to reach their mutual climaxes, but Clay made every moment a stimulating experience, filled with pleasure. Cameron found herself falling in love with this urbane, intelligent and sensual man.

 

Chapter 3.

The next day, House arrived at the hospital at his customary 10 AM. He entered the elevator to go to his office to see what his team had discovered about their current patient. Besides an elderly couple who appeared confused and anxious as people often did in a hospital, the only other person on the elevator was a humming and smiling Cameron. She looked so...

"You look happy!" he accused.

She continued smiling. "Most people are sometimes. Why shouldn't I be?"

"You tell me. Or rather tell me why YOU should be."

"It's none of your business, House." She pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

The elevator stopped on the second floor and she got out. House was puzzled about what might have happened. He'd never seen her like this, even when she was with Chase. And he'd heard that that was over. Just before the doors closed, he stuck his cane between them and they reopened. He exited and, in a few limping strides, he'd caught up with her. "It's a man, isn't it?"

"House, it's nothing to do with you. Don't you have a patient?" she countered.

He looked down the hallway in the direction she was headed. "Sherman. Dr. Jacob Sherman in Peds."

She snickered and smirked. "No. And I never said it was a man."

"A woman?"

"House!" She gave him one of the exasperated looks she'd developed working for him. "Go tend to your patient."

"Taub and Kutner can take care of her. Do I know him?"

She sighed. "No. And therefore, it's none-of-your-business," she repeated. "What's wrong with her?"

"Constipation, fatigue, and nausea. How'd you meet him?"

"Bowel obstruction?" she suggested, ignoring his question.

"Scans ruled that out. How long have you known him?" he persisted.

"Is she depressed? And it's still none-of-your-business!"

He nodded. "Not just depressed but prone to panic attacks. I give it six months."

"You don't even know him!" She had learned to not only follow his split discussions but also to participate in them.

"But I know YOU."

"That doesn't make it any-of-your-business. What about headaches?"

"None that she's mentioned." He suddenly narrowed his eyes, as if something occurred to him. "She probably thought it was none-of-our-business." A light had appeared in his eyes, the kind he sometimes got when he'd had an epiphany. Before he turned to go, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. "You haven't lost your touch!" And then he was gone.

Cameron shrugged and continued on to Pediatrics to see the patient she'd sent them the day before. But the memory of that kiss stayed with her for the rest of the day. She had flashes of it at the oddest moments, and when she did, she smiled.

\--

House stormed into the conference room. "Does she have headaches? Specifically, migraines?" he asked his team.

"She never said anything about that," Taub replied. "You'd think she'd mention them if she did."

"Not if she decided they weren't any of our business, that she thought she knew what was causing them and didn't want to talk about it," House insisted.

"Should we go ask her?" Kutner offered.

House nodded. "And while you're in there, ask about any recent weight loss or gain, and do a thyroid function test."

Foreman narrowed his eyes, trying to decide where House was going with these other potential symptoms. Suddenly, his face cleared. "Hashimoto's!"

"Quite likely," House confirmed.

"Wait, you got that from the symptoms we know about and some that may not even be there?" Thirteen asked.

"I'm that good," House said, then left them to go to his office. Once he was alone, he could wonder why he kissed Cameron so spontaneously. He never did that to Wilson when a random thing his friend said triggered the solution to a medical puzzle. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

But he didn't stay in his office for long. He went through to his balcony and looked across to Wilson's office. The Oncologist was alone. Although House sometimes preferred to interrupt him during a consult, this time it would be better if it was just the two of them.

He gingerly climbed over the wall separating the two offices, and rattled the knob of Wilson's door. His friend looked up and frowned, but stood and opened the door. "What do you want, House?"

"What did Cameron tell you about her new guy?"

"First of all, I didn't even know she had a new guy. What makes you think she does?" Wilson narrowed his brown eyes, but didn't wait for his friend to answer. "And what business is it of yours?"

"That's what she said. She must have told you something. I thought you girls confided everything to each other."

Now Wilson rolled his eyes heavenward. "House, Cameron and I talk sometimes, but I'm not her confidant!"

"You must know something!"

"I know you think I'm gossip central around here, but I honestly don't know a thing. You're sure there's a man?"

"She's walking on air with a stupid grin on her face, humming love songs."

"Oh! Come to think of it, I haven't talked to her lately...," Wilson mused.

"Well, if you hear anything, let me know."

"House, stay out of it. You had your chance with her three years ago."

"Hey, I'm just curious, that's all," House protested. Instead of going back the way he'd come, he left by the door to the hall and headed for the elevator, then stopped and went back to his office instead. He was wondering how he was going to find out about this man when Foreman popped his head in. "Did we get confirmation?" House asked.

"No. House, did you see this?" Foreman waved a page of his newspaper.

"Why would I read the society gossip columns?"

"This you gotta see."

House skimmed the column that Foreman gave him until one name jumped out at him, Allison Cameron. Then he read the paragraph identifying Dr. Allison Cameron as 'the new lovely accompanying our favorite eligible bachelor, Clay Nickels.'

"Why should I care?" House proclaimed. He shrugged nonchalantly, then used Cameron's line. "It's none of my business."

Foreman rolled his eyes, took the newspaper and left. But he wasn't fooled.

Once he was gone, House decided he finally had something to investigate. He Googled Clay Nickels, and learned about the man's art galleries, his series of women, his wealth, and more than he truly wanted to know about the man's lifestyle.

Her boyfriend had so much dough he didn't know what to do with it. With his track record, House doubted that he'd be faithful to her. Did Cameron know about the other women in his life? It occupied his mind the rest of the day, trying to puzzle out why she would choose to be with Nickels, why House cared, and what he should do about it.

 

Chapter 4.

Robert Chase frowned as he changed out of his surgical scrubs after a long and difficult but successful operation. He wished his personal life was going as well as his professional one.

He'd known from the start that the chances of a long-term relationship with Cameron were slim. Even so, he did everything he could think of to make her love him as much as he loved her. He tried to satisfy her every wish, lavish her with attention, show her how much he cared and how good they could be together.

But in the end, he just knew that, no matter how often she denied it, her feelings for House were as intense as they'd ever been. And her feelings for him, although warm and caring, weren't 'love', except as a friend.

She'd confided in him about her past during their time together, just as he had told her about his mother's alcoholism, his boyhood in Australia, and his estrangement from his father. And yet, he sometimes thought he didn't really know her, how her mind worked or her heart. Like House, he couldn't understand how someone who'd been through all she had could still feel so much compassion for the patients that she treated.

"Chase, wait up!" Foreman called as he headed out of the hospital.

Chase had never decided if Foreman was more than a former colleague. They still worked together occasionally. But every time he began to think of Foreman as a friend, something happened to prove that the neurologist didn't think of Chase that way. He stopped at the door while Foreman caught up with him.

"I think I could use a drink," Foreman said. He looked like it too.

"House particularly obnoxious today?"

"Not any more than usual" Foreman began to say, then changed his mind. Smirking, he said "Yeah, he was impossible."

"Why aren't you drinking with Kutner and Taub, then?"

Foreman just rolled his eyes. He had no desire to socialize with them. Maybe Remy, but she was in New York at a wedding shower for her best friend from Med school.

Chase guessed that he thought less of them than of Chase. "Sure, why not?" he agreed "A drink would be great." It wasn't as if he had anyone to go home to. Not anymore.

Chase and Foreman went to a nearby pub that they'd been to frequently before, with or without Cameron. They found a high-top table for two and ordered beers. Chase realized that Foreman had been studying him. Did he really care about how Chase was taking the breakup? Chase didn't think so. So what was he interested in?

"Have you talked to Cameron lately?" Foreman finally asked as their waiter deposited their beer mugs exactly in the center of the paper coasters.

Chase just shook his head before taking a big gulp of beer. He'd been avoiding her for the four weeks since their breakup, trying to adjust to a life without her beautiful smile to wake up to and her warm body next to his at night.

"She's seeing someone," Foreman informed him.

"And you think I care? Or did you just want to see my reaction when you told me?" Chase asked angrily.

"I..."

"Foreman, we're not pals, you and I. We're not enemies either. Just former colleagues who still work at the same hospital." He drank the rest of his beer in one gulp, threw some bills on the table, and walked away.

Foreman watched him go. He'd known the news wouldn't please Chase, but hadn't been prepared for this reaction.

He was taking it just as badly as House.

Chapter 5.

The next day, after House left the hospital, he rode his bike into downtown Princeton. It was easy to locate Clay Nickels 'shop'. The gallery occupied three storefronts. The double doors had

NICKELS ART GALLERY

Purveyors of fine art

emblazoned in eight-inch-high letters. House wasn't exactly an art maven, but based on what he did know, the paintings and sculptures he saw through the plate glass (probably reinforced) windows and doors was fine indeed.

He opened the door and a subtle chime announced his entrance. He was immediately greeted by an older woman, tall and well-built, in a gray suit with a pink silk shirt underneath, her gray hair swept up into a chignon. "I'm sorry, but you need an appointment to view our paintings."

"I'm not here for the art. I'd like to speak to Mr. Nickels," he replied.

"Do you have an appointment?" She pursed her lips and surveyed the tall man in his casual clothes.

"Just tell him it's about Dr. Cameron," House said.

She looked at him again, not certain that she should leave him alone in the showroom among the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art. But she relaxed at the appearance of a younger, shorter and thinner woman. "Jocelyn, please tell Mr. Nickels that there's a 'gentleman' here to see him about Dr. Cameron." She turned back to House. "I'm sorry, but I didn't get your name."

"That's because I didn't give it." And he clearly wasn't going to.

"I'll stay here with him," the older woman told Jocelyn.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Stafford." Jocelyn left through a door House hadn't noticed before.

House wandered around the room, looking at the canvases on the walls, pausing to examine a small sculpture that caught his eye. He picked up an alabaster figure of a woman. "This looks like a copy of something I saw at Pier One."

"I can assure you, it's an original by a highly regarded sculptor," she replied. "Please put it back."

It wasn't long before Jocelyn returned with a man, younger than House and only slightly shorter. He was dressed in a conservative three-piece suit and white shirt, jazzed up with an abstract printed tie in vibrant red, green and gold.

"May I help you?" he asked.

House stared at him. So this was Cameron's lover. He could see he was the kind of man who would attract women even if he didn't have money. "I'm a friend of Dr. Cameron's," he said. "Just thought I'd come by to say 'hello'. Make sure she was in good hands."

"I can assure you that she's in perfectly good hands with me." Nickels said in a condescending tone, looking him up and down. He wondered what Allison's relationship with this man was.

"I can see that," House lied. "Well, have a nice evening." And with that, he turned and limped out through the doors with their large gold letters.

\--

That evening, Clay took Cameron to an intimate Italian restaurant. She was wearing a simple sleeveless navy dress with a bolero jacket in navy and maroon that tied under her small breasts. Clay ordered minestrone for both of them, a veal piccata for himself and ravioli for Cameron, along with a bottle of Bordeaux.

Her meal brought back bittersweet memories, and her eyes glazed over. She'd had the ravioli and House the puttenesca during their ill-fated date.

"Fifty cents for your thoughts," Clay said and she smiled at him.

"They're not worth that much," she replied.

He studied her lovely face, wondering whether to bring it up. "I had a visitor today. Tall man, slim, slightly disheveled, with a limp."

"House," she said, but didn't explain. Even if she hadn't been thinking about him, he was making his presence known.

"He told me to stay away from you if I knew what was good for me," Clay improvised.

"That doesn't sound like House." She frowned.

"It was definitely a threat," Clay insisted. "Allison, who is he? I think he might be a danger to you." Or at least to his relationship with her.

She thought about how to explain House. "I used to work for him. His bark is worse than his bite. He uses his mouth as a weapon, but he'd never physically hurt anyone," she protested, wondering at the same time why she was defending him.

"You don't work for him anymore. I want you to stay away from him!" Clay demanded.

It wasn't worth arguing with him, since she didn't see that much of House anymore any way. "All right," she agreed. Still she knew it wouldn't be that easy, since they still worked in the same hospital, and their paths continued to cross.

 

Chapter 6.

And, of course, two days later, there House was, making one of his periodic visits to the ER. Cameron tried to ignore him, but he hovered.

"House, I have no time for your games," she remarked as she examined a teenager who'd been brought in by his mother after he'd crashed his moped.

"I can wait." He didn't move away.

Cameron treated the kid, gave him and his mother instructions on changing his dressings and taking his meds, and sent them on their way. She knew House wouldn't go away until she acknowledged him.

"What do you want?" she asked. "No, wait, before you tell me, whatever possessed you to go to Clay's gallery and threatening him?"

"I didn't threaten him! I just wanted to meet the guy," House insisted. "Of course, now I'm beginning to wonder whatever possessed you to hook up with a poser like that!"

"You didn't tell him to stay away from me?" Her eyes narrowed as she watched his face, hoping he'd be honest with her.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, clearly confused.

"House, just stay out of it, OK? He's a good man, good to me."

"Yeah, he's good all right, good and rich! I never thought that you of all people would sell your soul to live in the lap of luxury. You know that dude has a whole wall of' 'em just like you. You're just another priceless work of art in his Gallery."

Neither of them saw Chase watching and listening from around a corner as they continued to argue. Chase was a little surprised that House was telling her the same things he'd been thinking about her new lover.

\--

Cameron ignored the doubts that House's comments had created. She continued to spend as much time as possible with Clay. She enjoyed the variety of places he took her. There were more social engagements, more public appearances over the next couple of weeks, as if he wanted to show off this beautiful woman.

She'd been dating Clay about a month when she ran into Chase in the hospital cafeteria. Not sure what to say to her former boyfriend, she waited for him to speak first.

"I hear through the grapevine that you're dating a patient," Chase said.

"Former patient," she corrected. "I treated him for a whole fifteen minutes a few weeks ago." She realized how defensive she sounded but couldn't help herself.

"I...I hope you're happier with him than you were with me." Chase dared her to reply.

"Chase. Robert, Clay's a wonderful man and he's very good to me," she tried to explain.

"I was good to you, too," Chase reminded her. "I just wasn't House."

She sighed. "Robert, I thought we'd agreed to be friends. There's no need to rehash all of our arguments. I...I just wish you can find happiness with someone who loves you."

He nodded, but he wasn't smiling. He took his tray and walked away, leaving Cameron frowning.

\--

At the end of their fifth week they went to Annabel's again. It had become a tradition for them to eat there on Friday nights.

"I'd like you to move in with me" Clay told her as they ate their salads. It was more of a demand than a request.

Cameron had been expecting this but now that he had asked, she wasn't so sure. "It...I think it's too soon for that," she said. "Can you give me the weekend to think it over?"

Saturday night they went to an opening at another gallery, owned by one of Clay's competitors. The art world in Princeton was close-knit and many of the artists and gallery owners knew each other.

Cameron had already met Kate Jeffries at a small dinner that a third gallery owner had held, and had liked the plain-spoken woman. She was short and slight, with closely cropped blond hair and a surprisingly deep voice.

"Allison, I'm so glad you came!" Kate greeted her. "Clay, you must see Julio's latest creations. They're in the room to the right. I'm going to borrow your lovely lady for a while."

As the two women watched Clay wander off to view the paintings, Kate said "I think you're good for him."

"He's certainly good for me," Cameron replied. "No one's ever treated me so well."

"But?" Kate wondered astutely astute.

Cameron smiled at her. "He rarely lets me make any of my own decisions." If anything, this was the only flaw in their relationship.

"And that's a problem because?"

"Because I've worked hard to be an independent woman. I'm not about to give that up." She'd liked Clay's take charge attitude at first, after having to make many of the decisions when she was with Chase, but it had become irritating for a woman who thought herself to be strong and self-reliant.

Kate noticed the frown on Cameron's face. "Is there something else on your mind?" Kate guessed.

"Am I that transparent?" Cameron asked with a self-conscious laugh. "What can you tell me about the other women in Clay's life?"

Kate nodded. Somehow she knew that might bother Cameron.

"There were four, no five other women who've had a relationship with Clay that lasted longer than a few days. All were beautiful, of course" Kate began. "Tamara and Willa were both 'actresses', if you know what I mean. He tired of each of them in a little over two months. Not surprising, really. They didn't have a brain between them."

Cameron chuckled.

"Constance lasted longer. Constance Bernardi, the art critic. Would you believe they fought over the talent of one of his 'protegees'? Of course, the fact that he was cheating on Connie with Geraldine factored into their breakup. Gerry followed Connie into his bed but they broke up five or six months ago. Her paintings weren't selling and she blamed Clay. Connie had been right about her. Her talent was mediocre at best. And, of course, there's Patrice Rousseau. He's had an on-again, off-again relationship with her forever. It's been over for a while, but she still manages his gallery in Paris."

"It doesn't sound like any of the relationships were strong enough to stand even a little conflict" Cameron concluded.

"Allison, you must realize that Clay collects beautiful things, but the slightest tarnish diminishes them in his eyes," Kate warned, her statement sounding too much like House's evaluation. The woman shut up as Clay approached. But Cameron resolved that her relationship with him wouldn't end the way the others had. When he took her home that evening, she agreed to move in with him on Sunday.

 

Chapter 7.

Tuesday, Clay insisted that they have an intimate dinner at home. He'd ordered the food from a restaurant about a mile away that delivered complete meals. Clay dimmed the lights and had Cameron light the candles on the table. She wasn't sure what to expect from him but knew the food would be good.

They started with lobster bisque. It was seasoned perfectly and creamy smooth. "This is delicious," Cameron said.

Clay smiled at her. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." After a few more spoonfuls he said "There's an important show in Paris next week. You should come with me." He'd only made two very brief trips since they'd been together, and never took her along.

"I can't just take off like that!" She was alarmed by his request.

"It'll only be for a week or two."

"A week or two? Clay, I'm a doctor. I have a responsibility to my job, the hospital, and the patients that need our services!" she insisted.

"I don't know why you don't quit. It's not as if we need the money." He dropped his spoon in his bowl.

"It's not the money!" She stared at him with her hands on her hips. "I worked hard to become a doctor. It's important to me. If you can't understand that, then you don't know me very well."

He could see that she was serious. For once, he decided to let her have her way. He smiled indulgently and said, "All right. Could you get away for a weekend after I get back? We can go up to my apartment in New York, take in a show. I think there's a street art show in The Village or SoHo coming up."

Cameron smiled, relieved that he'd moved on and willing to compromise. "I think I'd like that," she agreed. "Sure, I'll arrange to be off that weekend."

The next few days, Clay was busy preparing for his trip. But he made time in the evenings for Allison. The day before he left was a Friday. Naturally, they went to Annabel's where the Maitre d', hostess and their waiter greeted her as effusively as Clay.

"The chef has prepared something exquisite just for the two of you tonight" the waiter told them. "Veal in a burgundy sauce with truffles and a julienne of spring vegetables."

"It sounds wonderful!" Cameron exclaimed. Every bite she'd ever eaten in the restaurant had been, but no chef had ever prepared anything just for her before.

Clay ordered green salads and a wine to go with their dinner, then sat back to admire her face in the candlelight. "I must imprint this picture on my mind to take with me to Paris since you can't come with me yourself," he said.

"You could take a picture," she suggested.

"You know what I think of photography. It does not allow for the impressions and nuances that a true artist adds to his pictures." He smiled. "When I return, I must have Anthony Sloane paint you!"

"Oh, no! I mean, I've never posed for an artist before. I'm not sure I could do it!"

"You'll be a natural," he said to convince her.

She smirked at him, then suddenly her expression changed as she caught sight of a couple entering.

Clay noticed and looked to see who she was looking at. "Do you know those people?" he asked.

"Um, yes, they work at the hospital." It was Chase and a woman who'd just started as a surgical nurse. Carolyn James, a pretty woman with short platinum blond hair.

"They make a good looking couple," Clay commented. "Should we ask them to join us?"

"Oh, I don't think so."

But Chase had seen them and brought Carolyn over. "Hello, Allison."

"Chase, this is Clay, Clay Nickels," she said. "Clay, this is Dr. Robert Chase and Carolyn James." Chase must really be serious about her, she thought, to spring for dinner at such an expensive restaurant.

The waiter returned with their salads. "Will they be joining you?" he asked, ready to set two more places if necessary.

"No, we'll let them have their privacy," Chase replied, smiling at Cameron. She smiled back.

Once they'd left for their own table on the other side of the restaurant, Clay asked "Do you know them well?"

"I'd never really met Carolyn before, but I worked with Chase for three years" she said. Should she tell him? Yes, she decided. "I lived with him for a year."

Clay raised one eyebrow. "Did you love him?"

She shook her head. "That was the problem, of course. He loved me, or at least thought he did, but I never really loved him. We're still friends," she hastened to add. "And colleagues."

Although he said nothing, Cameron's occasional glance in the direction of the blond doctor did not go unnoticed by Clay. He couldn't know that seeing Chase with someone he obviously cared about was a big relief for Cameron.

When they arrived home, while Cameron was getting ready for bed, Clay called the P.I. he'd used to find out Cameron's address and phone number. He instructed him to keep an eye on Cameron at the hospital while he was away.

On Saturday evening, Cameron and Clay drove to the airport. "Call me when you arrive," she told him. He nodded and kissed her goodbye before walking through the metal detectors.

 

Chapter 8.

Cameron drove back to the house. She walked into the great room, thinking that she'd settle down in the plush recliner and read a book. It seemed cavernous, lonely without Clay there. And it wasn't hers.

On impulse, she packed up some of her work clothes, forwarded the phone to her cell, and drove to her old apartment. She wasn't sure why she'd kept it, but now she was glad that she had. She smiled seeing the familiar furniture, pieces she'd picked out for herself. She knew she'd sleep better in her own bed than alone in the huge one in Clay's elegantly decorated bedroom.

Her cell phone's jingle woke her hours later. It was Clay, of course. He'd had an uneventful flight, and was on his way to his Paris apartment. He'd call again when he could. "But I'll be busy and there is a time difference, so don't expect frequent calls," he warned her.

"That's OK," she said. "Call when you can."

She knew that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so she got up, showered and dressed. It wouldn't hurt to get into the hospital early.

\--

As she walked through the doors into the lobby, she saw House exiting the elevator. She checked her watch. Yup, it really was 7:30 AM. Interesting.

"You're here early," he said. "Trouble in paradise?"

She ignored his remark. "Can I assume you're here late?" She was still puzzled. Rarely had he pulled an all-nighter. He preferred to let his subordinates handle the 5 P.M. to 10 A.M. hours.

"Persnickety patient. Finally figured out it was glomerulonephritis."

She nodded. He looked dead on his feet. "Go home and get some sleep," she told him.

"Yes, mommy." But he didn't want to leave until he found out why she was in so early. It couldn't be a patient. "Looks like you couldn't sleep. Maybe you want to join me. I'm sure Mud won't mind."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and not because she couldn't guess who he meant by 'Mud'. Was he really suggesting what she thought? "You must be tired. Are you really that desperate for some action now that Cuddy's out of the picture?"

He was really exhausted. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes when she mentioned Cuddy. Guess he'd cared more than she thought. "Go home, House," she repeated, and walked past him to take the elevator down to the Emergency Room, not noticing the nondescript P.I. who'd been waiting for her to come in and was surprised that she was there so early.

\--

House hadn't slept for 20 hours or more. He entered his apartment and, as he made his way from the door to the living room and then to the bedroom, he stripped off his clothes, down to his T-shirt and briefs. He'd grabbed a bottle of Scotch on the way and flopped on the unmade bed.

But despite his tiredness, he couldn't fall asleep. He sat up and took a swig of Scotch straight from the bottle. Still, his leg throbbed and his thoughts swirled. A couple of Vicodin helped but only a little. He finally fell into a fitful sleep.

~~

He walked through the door to the hospital roof, hoping for some solitude, but he wasn't alone. A slight figure in pink scrubs, her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, stood looking out over the campus as he'd often done in the past. The dejected slump of her shoulders told her story.

Without thinking, in four steps he was at her side. She turned when she heard him approach.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so!'" she challenged.

He knew it would be unnecessary anyway.

"He found someone else" Cameron replied to the unasked question.

"It was just a matter of time before he found another more fine" he told her.

Although the truth hurt, Cameron accepted it.

"You were just another priceless work of art in his gallery" he went on, unsympathetically, but what else would she expect?

But then his voice softened. "You're a masterpiece, Cameron. He couldn't appreciate your beauty, not just on the surface. Don't let him cheapen you. He never saw you like I do. Beautiful, not just for show. It's time that someone let you know."

~~

Abruptly he woke up. He remembered only parts of his dream but the details he remembered were somehow disturbing. And what the hell was he spouting to Cameron at the end? It sounded like some sappy song lyric.

\--

That evening Cameron sat curled up on her couch trying to read a novel. She'd 'read' the same page three times without the words or their meaning penetrating her brain. Clay hadn't called since he'd arrived. She was not about to call him. Suddenly her cell phone rang, and she answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Allison?" Kate's voice was a surprise. Cameron had never thought that she'd hear from her with Clay gone.

"Hello, Kate," she replied. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, no, well, yes. I was just wondering if you're busy tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Cameron still didn't know why Kate had called.

"Don and I are having a dinner party, you see, and I was hoping you'd come," Kate finally got to the point of her call.

"Me? Without Clay?"

"Why, yes, dear. Why not? Just because he's off having a good time in Paris doesn't mean that you have to be a hermit." There was laughter in her voice and a genuine friendship.

"Oh!" Cameron thought about it. "Well, I guess I'm free. Um, what time? And how do I dress?"

After she hung up she went to look for something to wear. She found a pale blue dress in her closet, one she barely remembered having. It was a simple dress that she could easily accessorize for any occasion.

The next morning, Cameron still couldn't believe that Kate had invited her to a dinner party. It had been one thing to socialize with the art set when Clay took her places, but alone? In the weeks she'd known him, she'd learned something about painters and paintings. She'd listened to the conversations at gallery showings and parties, and had been introduced to some of the important players, but her field of expertise was medicine and no one at Kate's party would want to talk about that. She began to regret accepting the invitation

The next day the ER was very busy, but finally Cameron could leave. She rushed home to shower and change before driving to Kate and her husband's home out in the country. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, pleased that the silky sheath looked better on her than she remembered. By six-thirty she was ready to go.

 

Chapter 9.

Cameron's drive out in the twilight was uneventful. Although Clay had always driven before, they had visited the Jeffries on two previous occasions and knew the way. She located the imposing home with ease. Cameron's anxiety about the dark drive home soon shifted to what lay ahead. Alone, out of her element, she was beset by worry and regret. She should never have accepted Kate's invitation, but she was there, so she might as well go in.

The door was answered by a middle-aged plump white woman in a simple shirtdress with an apron over it. Cameron recognized her as Kate's cook from the previous times she'd been there. As the woman took her lightweight jacket, she said "Thanks Ellen."

"They're all in the conservatory," Ellen told her, pointing with her chin toward the living room.

Cameron remembered walking through the beautifully-appointed room to get to the glass-walled conservatory at the back of the house. It was a huge sun porch really, filled with plants and cushioned wicker furniture and, that night, with people. She was definitely not the first to arrive.

Kate saw her when she entered the room and walked over to greet her. "I'm so glad you could make it!" she said, then waved over a young man serving flutes of champagne.

They were soon joined by a couple that Cameron had met several times before. Herbert Sloan was a wealthy man, the head of an engineering firm, but also an art connoisseur and patron. He was about House's age, Cameron thought, and almost as tall with a completely bald head and clean-shaved fleshy face. His wife, Lilly, was a bit younger, though it was hard to determine her age with the expert make-up she wore. Slim and of average-height, she was of Asian descent, Cameron thought that Clay had told her Chinese, with long and silky black hair. The couple had always been friendly to Cameron.

"Allison, good to see you!" Lilly said with a big smile. "I didn't know if you'd be here, since Clayton is in Paris."

"Kate was kind enough to invite me," Cameron replied. "How could I pass up an opportunity to eat Ellen's wonderful food? Or see the two of you."

Kate called to someone who'd arrived after Cameron. "Jonathan, come meet Allison Cameron."

The man was very striking, with almost black hair and piercing dark eyes under well-shaped brows. Cameron had never seen him before.

"This is Jonathan Fallon," Kate said. Cameron recognized the name. Clay had told her that he was an up-and-coming artist, specializing in portraits that were more abstract than accurate.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Cameron," he said with a nod and a grin when he took a good look at her.

She'd given up corrected people. What did it matter? None of Clay's friends could care less that she was a doctor.

"Don't pounce," Lilly told the man. "Allison's Clay's."

"But Clay's in Paris, enjoying the charms of the beauteous Patrice," he countered, then leered at Cameron.

"Clay's assured me that's all in the past," Cameron said with false confidence. "She's just working with him now," she insisted, looking around for someone to confirm that.

"Dinner is served," Ellen announced. The crowd quickly gravitated towards the dining room. The table was set with Kate's beautiful china. She'd once told Cameron that her mother had brought it from England when her she'd emigrated as a teenager. The silver had been a wedding gift from Don's parents who'd been happy to see their only son marry at forty.

Cameron found herself seated between Jonathan on her left and Don on her right, and across from Herb Sloane. Jonathan began talking about art, about light and color. She was only too happy to let a tall woman with red hair on Jonathan's left side engage him in conversation. She knew the woman, Felicia Kramer, was an art critic.

"Do you ever get tired of all this talk about painting and sculpture?" Cameron asked Don. She knew he was a tax accountant, and possibly the only other person there who wasn't very interested in the art scene.

"I think that's why my wife sat me next to you, so I'd have someone to talk to!" he admitted.

She laughed. "So, what should we talk about instead?"

"We can talk about politics, or sports, maybe the economy but that could be depressing," he said. He cleared his throat. "I vote for..." But he never completed the sentence. He suddenly clutched his throat, gagged and closed his eyes. His usually ruddy complexion paled and he seemed to collapse in his chair.

Cameron immediately checked his pulse and shouted, "Someone call 9-1-1!" Then she looked up at the faces of the people crowding around. "Herb, help me get him to one of the couches in the living room," she requested.

Herb and another man began to lift Don out of the chair while most of the other men stood there doing nothing. Jonathan, in particular, made himself scarce.

"If the rest of you sit back down to dinner it'll give us more room to work" Cameron instructed. They were only too willing to comply. She, Herb and the other man, another gallery owner named Bill Rader, managed to carry Don into the living room. Kate and Lilly followed.

Cameron loosened Don's belt and opened the top button of his shirt. "How soon did they say the ambulance would be here?" she asked Lilly, who she'd seen calling 9-1-1.

"Twenty minutes," Lilly said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Go tell Ellen that we could use a blanket or sheet or something, " Cameron replied.

"Allison, is he going to be all right?" Kate asked, obviously anxious about her husband.

"We won't be able to tell until the paramedics arrive with their equipment, but his pulse is improving already, and his breathing is less labored. Does he have a history of heart or lung problems?"

Kate shook her head. "He's healthy as an ox! Although, he's been saying he was more tired than usual lately."

"Herb, there's a bag in the trunk of my car. Could you get it for me, please?" Cameron tossed him her keys from the evening purse she had slung over her shoulder by its rhinestone strap. She didn't want to leave Don long enough to do it herself.

 

Chapter 10.

As Herb left, his wife returned with Ellen and both a sheet and a blanket. Cameron draped the sheet over Don.

"Ellen, perhaps you can serve dinner to the other guests," Kate took the time to say.

Once Cameron had her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff, she was able to confirm that Don's heart was beating normally, his lungs were clear, and his blood pressure was 120 over 75. His eyes were beginning to flutter open again when the EMS crew finally arrived.

"Dr. Cameron, what happened?" the tall, heavyset woman carrying the portable monitor asked.

As an attending in the ER at PPTH, Cameron knew most of the paramedics manning (or in this case manning and womaning) the ambulances in the area, and they knew her.

"Hi, Felicia. The patient is Don Jeffries" she told her. "This is his home. He was sitting at the dining room table, talking to me, and suddenly fainted. His blood pressure, pulse and respiration are back to normal, but there must be some underlying cause for what happened."

Felicia and the man with her, Paul, began to take readings with their equipment. "Everything is normal" Paul said before long. "Do you still want us to take him in?"

"I...Yes, take him to PPTH. I want to do some more tests" Cameron said, still puzzled by what she had witnessed.

"Yes, Doctor," Felicia agreed. She and Paul left to get the stretcher to take Don to the ambulance.

"I'll ride in the ambulance with them," Cameron decided.

"Kate, why don't you let us take you to the hospital?" Herb offered.

"Oh, you don't have to!" she protested.

"Kate, you're in no condition to drive alone. Why don't you let them help you?" Cameron suggested.

Kate nodded. She was still in some shock at the events of the evening. "I'll...I'll just tell the other guests that we're leaving."

\--

Kate arrived at the hospital ER just as Cameron was instructing the nurses about what she needed them to do for Don. She asked one of them to take blood samples to the lab for CBC, electrolyte, glucose, and kidney function tests.

Don had hardly said a word during the trip in the ambulance beyond "What happened?" When Cameron asked if he remembered what had happened just before he fainted, he was able to tell her that he'd been talking to her and even what they'd been talking about. But now she needed a history.

"Kate, why don't you come with me while I get some scrubs to cover this outfit. You can answer some questions for me about Don's physical condition."

"All right, but I can tell you, he's the healthiest man I know, especially for his age," Kate told her.

"How old is he?"

"Fifty-two," Kate supplied.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. Don was older than she thought. "And he's never been ill? No blood pressure problems, heart disease? How's his cholesterol?"

"His doctor is as amazed as you, but he comes from hearty stock" Kate said with a smile. "There's nothing really wrong with him, is there? I mean, he was only unconscious for a short time and now he's well again."

Cameron wanted to tell her friend that her husband was fine, but she didn't really know that yet. She couldn't even say that 'it was nothing', not without proof. "We still need to know why he fainted so we can prevent it from happening again."

They returned to the ER bay where Don lay. He was chatting with one of the nurses, a young woman named Rosa, and smiling. The nurse reported that the results so far were negative. In fact, his levels were all perfectly normal.

"Don, how are you feeling?" Kate asked him, taking his hand.

"Just fine," he said. "As if nothing happened."

"But it did," Cameron said. "There are a few more tests I'd like to run. If they're also normal, you can go home tomorrow, OK?"

Don smiled at her and then at his wife. "I guess I can spend the night getting poked and prodded some more."

Cameron chuckled. "It's more like scanned and stressed a bit." She left to order a CT scan and a tilt table test, then returned just long enough to let Don and Kate know that she would spend the night at the hospital so that she could be called as soon as the results were in. She didn't say that she wanted to stick around in case Don had another episode. Kate agreed to let Herb and Lilly take her home, saying she'd return in the morning.

Cameron didn't sleep well. The uncomfortable bed in the doctor's dorm was the least of the problems. She couldn't figure out why Don had fainted and she very much wanted to. She'd come to like Kate and her husband, become closer to them than to any of Clay's other friends and acquaintances. But Jonathan's comments weighed on her mind. Was he right about Clay and Patrice?

At seven in the morning, not much rested after a fitful sleep, she returned to the ER to check on Don and the results of his tests. As she expected, everything was normal or at least within normal limits. And Don was merrily eating his hospital breakfast.

"I know this isn't gourmet food, but I was starving!" he said, shoveling in some reconstituted eggs.

Cameron grinned. At the same time, she realized how hungry she was. She'd completely missed dinner the night before. She ordered a Holter monitor for Don. He could wear it for a couple of days as an outpatient to check for transient heart rhythm disturbances. Then she left to get some food for herself, unaware of the nondescript man who was watching her every move.

When she returned, Kate had just arrived. "How is he this morning, Allison?" she asked.

"Ask him yourself," Cameron replied with a chuckle.

"Allison's sending me home," Don told his wife.

Kate smiled at him. "Herb and Lilly were very impressed to find out that Cameron was such a big shot doctor here," she said. "And you should have heard our dinner guests when I arrived home. Of course, they were concerned about you, Don, but they were also going on and on about Allison. Why, at least half of them didn't even know you were a doctor," she told her.

Cameron shrugged. "How could they? They only wanted to talk to me about art and artists."

Don chuckled, then cleared his throat to say something, but he never did. Instead, he fainted again and his blood pressure dropped precipitously.

"Allison, what's happening?" Kate cried.

Cameron shook her head. "He's having another syncope incident. I just don't know what's causing them. You're sure it's never happened before?"

"No, never!" Kate insisted.

Don's blood pressure rose slowly again. Cameron manually checked his pulse, even though the readouts showed that it was normal.

"I'm going to need a consult from one of my colleagues," she said. She tried to page Chase, but got no response. He was probably in surgery. She waited until Don had fully regained consciousness again, and one of the other ER doctors was tending to him before heading up to Diagnostics.

 

Chapter 11.

The P.I. followed her, wondering where she was going this time. He held back as she entered a door that said "Diagnostics Department".

She was relieved to see Foreman sitting alone in the conference room. She couldn't deal with House right now.

"Foreman, I need a consult. Fifty-two-year-old male in good health suddenly experiences an episode of syncope. Short-lived. But it's happened again about twelve hours later."

"Is he a smoker?" Foreman asked.

"According to his wife, he quit thirty years ago. Doesn't drink either," she reported, remembering the glass of club soda Don had been drinking the night before. "All the tests are negative. In fact, his levels are amazingly 'normal'."

"The heart?" he asked rather than suggested, knowing that she was too thorough to have missed a heart problem.

"Very healthy."

"A problem with the vagus nerve," Foreman said. "Or maybe dehydration."

"No problems with digestion, and no dehydration," she replied, shaking her head. "Foreman, I was sitting next to him at a dinner party last night when it happened the first time, and talking to him down in the ER the second time."

"Maybe he's allergic to you," Foreman quipped.

"Very funny!"

Foreman threw out some more ideas, but none were different from any she'd already had, and already proven wrong. Cameron decided that she should check to see whether Chase was out of surgery, but, as luck would have it, before she could leave, House spotted her in his conference room.

"Did they move the ER?" he asked, coming through the connecting door.

"I came to ask Foreman for a consult," she replied.

"What about me?" He feigned being offended. "Am I suddenly chopped liver?" He studied Cameron's look of dismay. "You don't want me to see the patient," he concluded. "Wait, it's not Mud, is it?"

Cameron glared at House with annoyance. "It's not Clay. He's in Paris." She knew somehow, as soon as she said it, that she shouldn't have. She swallowed, then repeated everything she'd told Foreman.

"Is he still in the ER?" House asked.

"I've had him admitted," Cameron reported. "He's in a room on the second floor. His wife is with him."

House picked up his cane.

"His wife is with him..." Cameron's voice trailed off as House left the office and loped down the hall to the elevators before she finished speaking. She quickly followed. "House!" she called, reaching the elevators.

"House, where are you going?" She quickly followed. "House!" she called, reaching the elevator as he got on, and squeezing in before the doors closed.

 

The P.I. missed it, of course, but assumed they were returning to the patient's room. He took the stairs.

"You say you were at a dinner party," House prompted as they rode down.

"Yes. The patient's wife, Kate, invited me."

"He part of the art scene?" House guessed. "A painter, working with oils or charcoal or plaster?"

"He's a tax accountant. His wife's the one who owns a gallery."

"Do you think he'd do my taxes if I diagnose him?"

"House!"

They'd reached the second floor and walked together to Don's room. Kate sat chatting with him, but looked up as they entered.

"Don, Kate, this is Dr. Gregory House. He heads the diagnostics department at PPTH," Cameron told them.

"Don, do you have any dental work?" House asked the patient.

"What would that have to do with his fainting spells?" Kate asked before Don answered, "I only had a couple of cavities as a child. None in the last forty-five years."

"No allergies? Ever get the flu?" House asked next.

Don shook his head.

"Allison, why is he asking these questions?" Kate asked.

Cameron had just realized why. "He's more fascinated by Don's good health than by the fainting," she explained.

"You were with him every time he fainted?" House asked Cameron.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"What was he doing just before?"

"The first time, we'd just sat down to eat. Don and I were trying to decide what we should talk about instead of art."

House nodded, but didn't say anything,waiting for her to elaborate.

"Don cleared his throat and started to tell me what he wanted to talk about."

"Actually, I think I coughed," Don corrected. "You asked me before whether I ever had cold or allergy symptoms. Come to think of it, I've been sneezing a lot lately."

"Does that mean anything?" Kate asked House.

"Maybe," House allowed. "What about the second time?" he asked Cameron.

"The second time it seemed more like a gag," she said, looking at Don and beginning to see why he was asking. "Cough syncope?"

"Hmmm, only one way to know," House said. He turned to Don and ordered, "Cough!"

 

Chapter 12.

Don stared at him, considering what he asked. He made a half-hearted effort to cough.

"Not like that!" House objected. He coughed deeply to demonstrate. Don tried to imitate him, and promptly lost consciousness. "Guess we have our proof!" House said.

Don was already coming out of his brief syncope, but Kate had to know, "So, now what do we do?"

"We tell him not to cough," House said as if it was obvious. "It's a vasovagal reaction leads the heart to slow down and, at the same time, it leads the nerves to the blood vessels in the legs to permit those vessels to dilate. The result is that the heart puts out less blood, the blood pressure drops, and what blood is circulating tends to go into the legs rather than to the head. The brain is then deprived of oxygen, and the episode occurs. "

"But how do we prevent that?" she asked.

"We treat what caused the cough," Cameron explained. "We can try a bronchodilator or antitussive."  
She'd already begun to examine Don's nasal passages, taking a swab of the mucosa. "We need to find out if there's an infection that caused the sneezing and coughing."

"When did you last have a cold?" House asked Don.

He shook his head. "I don't remember. It's been a long time."

"You're still amazed at how healthy he is!" Cameron told House.

"It's unnatural. A man of fifty-two should have something wrong with him!" He saw that Kate was taken aback by that. "We all begin to die the moment we're born," he said. "Our cells begin to die as our bodies grow and develop in our first twelve, fourteen years. Our hormones may change, but that doesn't stop the aging process. Don has the health of a much younger man."

"And that's a good thing," Cameron said. "House, I know it's an anomaly to you, but for Don and Kate, it's a good thing."

He nodded once. "Well, I guess you've got this under control."

"I'm going to get you a prescription," Cameron told Don. "I may have to change it when we get the results of the tests on your mucus, but you can go home." She smiled, and Kate and Don did too.

Cameron walked out to the desk to process the discharge papers and Kate accompanied her.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?" Kate asked as she and

"No!" Cameron exclaimed immediately, then, after a pause, she added, "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. Maybe the way you look at him sometimes, and the way he looks at you," Kate replied.

Cameron sighed. "I worked for him for three years. The first year I had a crush on him," she began to explain. "You know, like a kid has on their favorite teacher. But then I realized how self-absorbed he was. He can be mean, even cruel, never thinking about the other person."

"I think he cares about you," Kate said gently. In response to Cameron's narrowed eyes and frown, she said, "Maybe not romantically, but in a protective way."

Cameron smirked and shook her head. "You don't know Gregory House! You know how mothers interpret their babies' uncontrolled facial expressions from gas as smiles? What you see as concern is probably House trying to piece together some puzzle. No more, no less." She finished Don's discharge papers. "OK, he's good to go."

They returned to Don's room with the obligatory wheelchair, and found Don talking to House and laughing. As they took Don down to the lobby, Cameron wondered about how quickly House and Don had bonded.

Kate brought her car around, and she and Don left.

"Thanks, House," Cameron said dismissively after they were gone. "I think I'll head on home myself." She sighed. It had been an exhausting day and a half. "I have to get out of this outfit!"

"I kinda like it," House remarked with a leer and she smirked. It wasn't really sexy, was it?

It wasn't until they stood waiting for the elevator that she realized she had no way of getting home. "Damn, I should have gone with them!" In response to House's raised eyebrow, she felt compelled to say, "I left my car at their house last night."

"I'll take you," he felt just as compelled to offer.

She studied his expressionless face, wondering what was in it for him. "OK," she finally agreed.

He went with her to get her purse. But when he led her to where his bike was parked she stared at it and said, "Would you mind stopping at my place so I can change before we go out to Kate's?" Even the short distance to her apartment would be uncomfortable in her dress with its narrow skirt.

"Your place?" he asked. "I thought you'd moved in with The Collector."

She didn't know how to explain. "My most comfortable clothes are still at my apartment." She gingerly got on the bike behind him, and they rode off.

Clay's spy watched them go, wondering who the man was who'd helped her with the patient and was now riding off with her.

He reentered the hospital to find out. It didn't take him long to learn that the tall man with the cane and the motorcycle was Dr. Gregory House. He finally had something interesting to put into his reports for his client.

 

Chapter 13.

They rode in silence. She held on to him, feeling the warmth of his body, and as her fatigue melted away, her deeply buried attraction to House began to surface. 'I believed I was over you' she thought. 'This can't be happening again'.

He was able to park the bike just outside her building and they went inside. House had never stepped foot in her place before, so he took a moment to look around as he followed her in. The couches in the living room looked comfortable. He wasn't surprised by the shelves filled with books, CDs and DVDs.

Cameron had disappeared into what House assumed was her bedroom. He shrugged and headed that way. She'd removed the dress and stood in pink bikini panties and matching demi-bra, pulling slacks and a sweater from the closet. In just a few strides across the thick bedroom carpet, he reached her. She hadn't heard him coming and was startled by the hand on her bare shoulder.

"House! What are you doing in here?" she shouted, turning and holding her pants and sweater in front of her.

He dropped his cane and pulled at her arms so that she dropped the clothing and he could look at her.

She was rooted to the spot, couldn't even breath, could barely whisper 'House!'

He reached around her and unhooked the bra, then ran his long, deft fingers down her back. His touch was electrifying. She knew what was about to happen, but was powerless to stop it. She wasn't sure she wanted to. How could something so wrong feel so right? And why did that remind her of a sappy song from her childhood? Or a more recent one?

He stopped briefly to strip off his T-shirt. She'd seen his bare chest before, but this time she felt the need to touch him as he was touching her. She marveled that his fingers, although not manicured and elegant like Clay's, felt more sensuous to her. She stroked his chest with her own fingers, then ran them inside the waistband of his jeans, eliciting a smile from him.

He moved her to the bed, pushing the duvet aside to place her on the sheets, and dropping his pants before he began to explore her with his lips and his tongue. When they reached the top of her bikinis, his talented tongue was able to push them lower, and she moaned with pleasure, encouraging him to continue.

As he teased and excited with his mouth, she allowed herself to stroke him, the way she'd dreamed of doing before she decided that it would never happen. But now, now that House was here, making love with her, all she knew was how she felt, what she wanted. Every kiss, every touch set her body on fire. She kissed him to encourage him to continue.

When they finally joined, it was as if they'd been lovers all along. They moved together in a crescendo of sensation until they both reached the summit. And House still didn't let go. He cradled her in his arms as they both drifted off to sleep.

But an hour or so later, Cameron awoke, feeling unsettled. An arm embraced her. What had she done? She tried to pull away, waking House.

"Where are you going?" he asked, hand on her arm.

"House, this shouldn't have happened, and can't happen again!"

"Why not?"

"I'm not a cheater!" she cried.

"Mud doesn't have to know! He's in Paris, right?" he asked.

"But I know!" she insisted. "I can't cheat on him!" She forced herself to not look at his naked body.

"You think he hasn't cheated on you?" House questioned, echoing what others had hinted at.

"If he has, it doesn't matter!"

"Cameron, how long have we been playing this game?" House asked, trying to stare her down.

"As long as you've known me," she admitted. "But if you really know me, you know I can't do this!" She slipped out of bed and collected her clothes. "You'd better go."

He watched her walk toward the bathroom, admiring her naked body. "You still need a ride to get your car," he pointed out. "I said I'd take you." His voice was husky with untold emotions.

She turned back. "I'll call someone else to take me, or maybe a taxicab."

"Don't be an idiot!"

She pursed her lips, weighing her options, but mostly thinking about the ride behind him on the bike. Would her body betray her?

"So, it was just sex," he said in a matter of fact manner. He couldn't admit how disappointed he was that she was pulling back again. But she was right. He should have known that her moral code would get in the way.

"No!" she protested, then thought that maybe that was all it was for HIM. "I mean, of course that's all it was. Right?" Rather than say anything else, she finally went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

When she came out, a naked House was using the toilet. She quickly wrapped herself in a towel, walked around him, and returned to the bedroom, shaking her head. As she put on fresh underwear, and the pants and sweater she'd selected earlier, she heard the shower again, and, mixed with the running water. the sound of House singing. Singing?

He came back, wet and naked, carrying the towel she'd been using. He dried himself before putting his clothes back on. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

And without even looking to see if she was following, House shouted, "Let's go," and walked out the door. She had to rush to keep up.

 

Chapter 14.

Cameron gave House the directions to Kate and Don's home, then took the helmet he held out to her and mounted the bike behind him. Her arms gingerly encircled his waist. She was determined to keep her distance. But the laws of physics conspired against her. As he took a turn too quickly, she found herself pressed against him.

When they arrived, he stopped long enough for her to get off and hand him the helmet, and then to say, "Nice digs". Then he rode his bike around in the driveway to take off again.

Cameron shook her head, watching him, when the door opened and Kate came out to the wide porch.

"Hi, Kate. I just came to get my car," Cameron explained, not noticing that House had stopped again.

"Oh, Allison, dear. I thought I heard a motorcycle or something." She looked at House. "Dr. House, were you leaving already?"

"He gave me a ride," Cameron said, then she closed her eyes and blushed at her double entendre.

"You're a man of many surprises!" Kate said, looking at House and his bike. "Well, come in! Both of you." Kate insisted. "Have you had dinner? Allison, you know you missed eating dinner last night, but Ellen is serving us leftovers."

"Oh, we couldn't..." Cameron protested.

"Nonsense. Of course you can! After all that you did for Don?"

"We were just doing our job," Cameron told her. "We really have to go. Don't we House?"

"I never turn down free food," he said, ignoring her warning look. He parked his bike and got off.

"Wait until you taste Ellen's food!" Kate told him. He followed Kate inside and Cameron was forced to tag along.

"Did I hear the door?" Don asked, coming from the living room. "Dr. House, Allison! Good to see you both so soon again!"

Had it only been a few hours since he'd left the hospital? Cameron smiled at him. "House brought me to get my car.

"Your lovely wife has asked us to stay for dinner," House added.

"Yes. We can finally eat what Ellen made last night, and Allison and I can have our art-free conversation," he said, walking with her to the dining room behind Kate.

"Dr. Cameron and Dr. House will be joining us," Kate told Ellen, who was setting down two plates of food.

The cook smiled at them and said, "I'll just bring two more plates, then."

The food was delicious, but Cameron was almost too nervous to enjoy it, certain that House couldn't keep his mouth shut. She toyed with her food and barely tasted what she put in her mouth.

Not so House. "This IS delicious, even better than the last thing I ate," he commented, confirming Cameron's fears. She choked on the food in her mouth.

Unaware of what he meant, Kate said, "Ellen is a treasure. We're so lucky to have her."

Maybe it would be OK, Cameron thought, and relaxed a little.

But House replied, "Just as lucky as I've been to have Cameron."

Now she blanched. Her eyes focused on her food, afraid her eyes would betray her.

"She told me that she'd been on your staff," Kate acknowledged.

Cameron closed her eyes. Would this never end?

"I didn't know that Allison had worked under you," Don said innocently.

Cameron rose abruptly. She knew she was overreaction, but couldn't help herself.

"Allison, dear, are you all right?" Kate asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and headed to the nearby powder room. She examined her face in the mirror. She wasn't sure what she expected but, other than flushed cheeks, she looked the same as ever.

She splashed some cold water on her face, and wiped it with a soft towel. As she cooled down she resolved to not allow her feelings of guilt continue to rule her responses to what anyone said. She took a couple of minutes for deep breathing exercises, then steeled herself as she returned to the table.

Somehow she made it through the rest of the meal. She was even able to enjoy some of the delicious food. But she left shortly after dinner, promising to call and check on her patient in a few days.

\--

Monday morning, House barged into Wilson's office. This was not unusual and Wilson thought nothing of it. At least not at first.

All weekend, House had been brooding about what had happened with Cameron. He was ready to explode. It was all he could do to keep their secret. No one could know, not even Wilson.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Wilson asked, watching his friend flop down on his couch.

"I didn't think you considered it a pleasure."

"I was being sarcastic!" Wilson had to say, even though he knew that House realized it. "So what ARE you doing here?"

"I'm conducting a study to see which doctor has the most comfortable couch in the hospital," House replied. "It's very useful information."

"And how many others have you tried?"

"Irrelevant."

Wilson looked at the ceiling and counted to ten. When would he ever learn? He tried another approach. "What happened?"

"Who said something happened?" House countered.

Wilson shook his head. "You're here because your own office wouldn't do for some reason. You've run out of places you can go in this hospital without being told to take a hike. Except, when I tell you to leave, you ignore me."

House seemed to think about that. "OK, try it," he said and made a 'bring it on' gesture.

Wilson narrowed his liquid brown eyes. "Go, House!"

House made a show of staring at him, staring at the door, and then looking at himself, still stretched out on the couch. "Guess you were right."

A knock at the door brought House to his feet. As Wilson's next patient entered, House left with a smile on his face. Nothing had changed. His world hadn't suddenly turned topsy-turvy because he'd given in to his desire for Cameron..

 

Chapter 15.

Cameron had worked all weekend so that she could go to New York with Clay after he returned on Thursday. On Monday, she bumped into Chase again, this time in the hospital elevator.

"Hi, Chase," she said, smiling at him.

"I thought it was 'Robert'," he reminded her, smiling back.

"How're things going with Carolyn?" she asked.

His smile broadened. "Very well!"

"That's great," she said, and she clearly meant it. "She seems very nice, and you deserve someone who can love you the way you love her. You do, don't you?"

He nodded. "And what about you and your art dealer? Is he willing to share your heart?"

She flashed on her afternoon with House. How could she hide the change in that relationship from Chase? Then again, had it really changed? She decided to stick to Chase's question.

"Chase! I mean, Robert! He doesn't have to. My heart belongs to Clay," she claimed. "He's very good to me."

"And I wasn't?"

"Well, of course you were. I just mean..."

"I know what you mean. He's loaded, isn't he?" Chase didn't wait for an answer. "He probably takes you to Annabel's all the time. I'd be lucky to afford it once or twice a year."

"But you took Carolyn."

"And it was even more expensive than I thought."

She glared st him, but not for long "I can't care less about Clay's money, and what it can buy!" she insisted. Still she began to wondering what else there was to her relationship with Clay. Could Chase be right? If Clay wasn't rich, would she still be attracted to him?

Chase gave her a speculative look as he got off at his floor. "Be careful, Cameron. You're smarter than this."

\--

The next morning, before she left for work, Cameron's phone rang. It was only the third time she'd heard from Clay since he'd been gone.

"Allison, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm obliged to remain here another couple of days," he said.

"But...but what about our trip to New York on the weekend?" she asked, not even trying to hide her disappointment.

"We can go the following weekend," he said, brushing off her concern.

"I can't just switch which weekend I take off!" she objected. Cameron bit her lip and softened her tone. "OK, I'll see what I can do about the time off."

"That's my girl," Clay said. "I'll see you Friday night or Saturday morning. I'll change my plane ticket and let you know."

"Yeah, well, thanks for calling and letting me know. Bye, Clay. I...I love you!"

"Yes, well, I'll see you soon. Goodbye." He closed the connection. Stared at the phone, wondering at the lack of warmth that had always been in his voice when he talked to her.

She didn't hear from him again, and so she was surprised when she arrived home on Thursday to find him waiting outside her apartment.

"When did you move back here?" he asked, an angry frown marring his perfect features.

"I..." Again she was unsure about how to explain. Thinking quickly she said, "It's closer to the hospital. I've been working extra hours so that I could take the weekend off, and I didn't want to drive all the way to the house when I finished late." It sounded logical to her.

Clay seemed to accept that. "Well, now you can come home with me."

She studied him. "I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow or Saturday," she said.

It was Clay's turn to explain. "The, uh, deal I was working on didn't pan out."

"Well, I'm glad you're back," Cameron said, deciding that was the important thing. She put her arms around his neck and kissing him, ignoring the disquiet that his explanation gave her.

His responding kiss seemed lukewarm, or maybe it was her imagination. "Let's go," he urged.

She glanced almost wistfully at the door to her apartment, then followed him out. "I'll take my car so that I have it to go in tomorrow."

"I thought we were going to New York." He sounded almost petulant, not exactly the kind of whine that House affected some times, but a real tone of annoyance.

They seemed to be talking at cross purposes. Cameron held her temper in check. "When you called to say you might not be back until Saturday, and that we'd go to the city next week, I offered to work tomorrow," she said as evenly as she could.

He seemed to consider that. "All right, but I'll drive you in and then pick you up when you're finished for the day so we can drive up for the evening. Leave your car here."

It was a compromise she could accept. She certainly didn't want to argue with him after he'd just arrived home.

She slid into the passenger seat of his black Mercedes to drive the thirty miles to Clay's house.

 

Chapter 16.

At first, they drove in silence. Cameron tried to think of questions to ask about his trip to Paris to show that she was really interested.

But it was Clay who finally broke the silence. "Kate says that you had dinner with her and Don last week."

"Yes. She invited me for a dinner party," Cameron was happy to have something to talk about. "Did she tell you about Don's fainting spell?" She wasn't divulging confidential information about a patient, since there were plenty of witnesses to the first one, and many people who knew he was ill.

"Yes. I understand that you brought in your 'friend', Dr. House to find out what was wrong. Didn't I tell you to stay away from him?"

No wonder he's been acting so cooly, she thought. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she shouldn't overreact. "He's a diagnostician, the best in the hospital, maybe even in the country."

"Surely you could have treated Don yourself," he said.

"Clay, the tests I did were inconclusive. They didn't point to any apparent cause." What more could she say to excuse the involvement of House in the case?

"Where did you go with him when you left the hospital?"

Cameron's eyes went wide. How did he know? Her first impulse was to be defensive, but it suddenly struck her that Kate could only have been able to tell him about their arrival for Cameron's car. "How do you know I left the hospital with House?"

Clay couldn't answer. He realized he couldn't explain.

She decided to tell him the part of the truth he could verify. "He took me to get my car at Kate's and Kate and Don convinced us to stay for dinner." He seemed to be thinking that over. Taking a page from the House playbook she turned the tables and asked, "Why do you feel so threatened by him?"

"Because he threatened me!" Clay shouted.

"No, he didn't." She'd said with confidence. She'd confirmed that by asking Jocelyn, one of the women who worked at his gallery. "But something he said, something about him has you anxious." Was Chase right? Was Clay perceptive enough to sense her unresolved feelings for House? If so, could he tell that she'd been unfaithful? Again she returned to House's deflection techniques. "You shouldn't be afraid of him," she said.

Clay tried to deny that he felt threatened, but he wasn't very convincing. Still, Cameron didn't want to talk about House, so she changed the subject.

"So, what are we going to do in New York?" she asked.

"We'll be staying at my apartment. I'll take you to some of the restaurants I like, to my gallery there, and to some of my friends' galleries," he replied.

"Didn't you say something about a street art show?" She'd actually been looking forward to that more than anything.

He nodded. "Yes, there's one near Washington Square. We'll go on Sunday."

She smiled at him. "Sounds like fun." She was still determined to enjoy the weekend and to make this relationship work.

They stopped on the way to the house to pick up some dinner, complete with salad and bread. When they walked into the house, it had a cold and empty feel until they turned on some lights and sat down at the dining room table. They were mostly silent again as they ate.

When they finished eating, they moved to the couch in the den that Clay preferred. Cameron tried to cuddle up to him but he said, "I'm rather tired." He stood and held out his hand to her. "Let's go to bed." Even better, she thought.

But when they got there, that's exactly what he did. He undressed, ran through the shower, and put on his silk pajamas before sliding between the sheets...and going to sleep.

It was not the homecoming that Cameron expected. She didn't know what to say, think, do.

"Goodnight, Clay," she whispered, turning out the lights. There was nothing to do but go to sleep.

In the morning, Clay was still asleep when she got up. She still didn't know what to do. He'd said he'd take her in to the hospital, and she had to be there in an hour and a half.

She got up and began to get ready for work, hoping he'd get up, yet afraid to wake him. When he didn't awaken, she gently shook his shoulder.

"Clay, I have to get to the hospital. I'll take a cab and you can pick me up this afternoon."  
She hoped he heard her, because he seemed half asleep. She dismissed it was jet lag.

When Clay arrived at the hospital at three to pick her up, Cameron breathed a sigh of relief. He'd remembered the suitcase she'd packed before she left the house in the morning. They drove to New York, making idle conversation, and avoiding any talk about the evening before.

They arrived at his apartment on the upper east side at about five thirty. It was a large place, almost as spacious and elegant as Clay's house. And as sterile. Clay gave her a tour and they deposited their suitcases in the master bedroom. But she was most fascinated by the view out over the river. She stood at the picture window in the living room, taking in the breathtaking sight.

 

Chapter 17.

"We're meeting Jonathan Fallon for dinner at Flanagan's," Clay said, bringing Cameron out of her reverie. "Kate said he was at the dinner party at her house, so I assume you've met him."

Cameron thought back on the conversation she had with the artist. "Yes," she said tersely.

Clay looked concerned. "Don't you like him?"

"No! I mean, yes, of course I do but I didn't talk to him much before Don had his attack," she explained lamely.

The restaurant, not far from the apartment, had pretensions of being a pub. Lots of wood, a bar along one wall, with an old mirror and shelves of glasses and bottles of booze behind it, and heavy wooden tables and red leather upholstered chairs. Jonathan was waiting for them when they arrived. As they perused the menu, Cameron glanced at Jonathan, but he didn't say anything about what he'd implied to her at Kate's. She relaxed, just a little.

The two men talked art, as she'd expected. She just sat back, ate the delicious dinner Clay had ordered for her, and looked around the room. It was filled with successful people, pretending to be at a friendly neighborhood bar. There was even a dartboard in a corner. No one was using it.

"Dessert?" Clay asked her.

"Hmmm? Oh, I'm stuffed I think. " She hadn't finished her lamb chop and potatoes although she'd eaten all her salad and broccoli. But she had a weakness for desserts. "What do they have?"

"Chocolate decadence," was all he had to say. The restaurant had other things, but he knew she was a chocoholic.

"Bring it on!" she said. She bit her tongue, because that reminded her of House. Everything seemed to remind her of him lately.

\--

The next day Clay took her to his New York gallery, managed by a much younger woman than Mrs. Stafford in Princeton. She was also much more attractive. "Clay, darling!" she gushed when he walked in, completely ignoring Cameron.

"Miranda, it's so good to see you!" His kiss was not the pretentious air kiss he usually favored, but a very passionate kiss that only lovers might share.

Cameron's heart sank as she watched. Had he forgotten that she was watching? What's more, did he CARE ? She cleared her throat as loudly as possible.

"Oh, Allison, dear, let me introduce Miranda Cordova, my New York right hand." His smile as he spoke was directed more at Miranda than Cameron.

Cameron tried to be gracious. "Miss Cordova, a pleasure to meet you," she said, holding out her hand. Miranda hesitated for a moment, as if Cameron were beneath her, then gingerly shook her hand.

"Miranda, this is Allison Cameron," Clay belatedly said.

Miranda had been studying her. "Are you an artist?" she asked, one well-arched eyebrow raised. She hadn't heard the name before.

"Hardly," Cameron replied. "I'm a doctor."

"A doctor?" Miranda looked surprised, but also a little appalled.

Cameron had grown to expect that reaction from Clay's friends. She never knew how to respond, so she didn't say anything.

"Well, how have things been going here while I was off eating éclairs and vichyssoise?" Clay asked her.

"Excellent!" she proclaimed. "We've sold three McGraths and two Bertolinis just this week."

Cameron was ignored completely while Clay and Miranda immersed themselves in a passionate conversation about paintings and artists. Hurt and annoyed, Cameron tuned them out, wandering around the gallery, looking at the paintings and statues on display. She liked some, but many didn't move her at all. Pretty in a superficial way, or odd and incomprehensible. Certainly nothing she could live with.

"Allison!" Clay called to her. "If you can pull yourself away from those amazing works of art, we have to be off."

"Of course." She was only too happy to leave the place. "Goodbye, Miranda. It was nice meeting you."

"Oh, Miranda is coming with us," Clay informed her.

Cameron's heart sank again. She felt very disappointed as the three of them went to a restaurant around the corner for lunch, where they picked up two friends of Miranda's, and then went on to see the display at the gallery of one of Clay's competitors.

She was beginning to wonder why she'd been looking forward to this weekend in New York. Just as in Princeton, Clay's life revolved around art.

 

In His Gallery – Chapter 18.

As they left the restaurant, Clay dropped another bombshell on Cameron. "I was able to get tickets for the ballet tonight."

"The ballet?" She'd taken ballet lessons as a kid but gave it up after a couple of years because she was discouraged by her lack of progress. The only live ballet performance she'd ever seen, besides the performances at her ballet school, was 'The Nutcracker'. She'd been entranced by the dancing and the costumes when her Aunt Alicia had taken her one year. She'd promised to make it a yearly tradition, but then her aunt had moved to Philadelphia and her plans fell by the wayside. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. "I don't have anything with me to wear!"

"No, of course you don't," Clay said. "Now we have a good excuse for me to take you shopping."

Shopping? Cameron knew what that meant. He'd take her to a few expensive stores and pick a dress for her. Then when she objected that she couldn't afford it, he'd insist on paying. It had happened before in Princeton, but this time, it was even worse. He decided she needed an entire new wardrobe. He selected some truly beautiful dresses and outfits, clothes that looked spectacular on her, and despite her protests, he bought them all.

The outfit he'd selected for her to wear that night consisted of two pieces, a short tight magenta skirt and a stiff brocade magenta and blue print top that plunged dramatically both in front and back.

"You look absolutely beautiful in that ensemble!" Clay told her as they dressed for the evening.

Cameron might have looked good, but the outfit felt very uncomfortable, especially the top with it's unconventional shaping. But it had brought back that gleam of appreciation in Clay's eyes that she'd come to enjoy, so she was willing to put up with the discomfort.

They took a taxi to Lincoln Center. As they entered the theater, looking at all the elegantly dressed women, Cameron knew that she looked just as good, if not better. They made their way through the promenade and up to their seats in the front of the first ring..

Once the performance began, Cameron was entranced and sat back to enjoy it. The first piece was very different from anything she'd ever seen. The men wore skin-fitting outfits and the women, dresses with low cut tops and flowing skirts. The scenery was minimal. But the dancing, the dancing was mesmerizing. The dancers seemed to flow with the music, and soar above the stage.

The other three pieces were just as enthralling. When the house lights came up at the end of the performance, Cameron's eyes shone with excitement. Clay thought she looked more beautiful than ever. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," she said softly.

"If I had known, I would have taken you to the ballet sooner. Well, we'll have to come back again sometime soon."

He hailed a taxi and they rode home, with Cameron still lost in her delight with the experience.

That night when Clay made love to her, it was as magical as it had been at the beginning of their affair. But her euphoria would not last long.

\--

On Sunday they went to see the outdoor art show. The galleries she'd visited the day before were about as exciting as the morgue at PPTH. But here, everywhere she looked, she saw animated young artists and enthusiastic patrons bustling from one to another. Cameron actually found herself having a good time.

"What do you think of those?" she asked Clay, pointing to a series of paintings by a young man with a ponytail and goatee.

"The kid thinks he's the next Hockney" Clay said, dismissively.

"And that's bad?" she asked. She liked the reality of the picture.

"He'd do better with a camera."

"Well, I like it!" she insisted.

"Yes, my dear," he said in a condescending way. He wandered off to some pretty, impressionistic landscapes, and the lovely young woman who'd created them.

Cameron followed him. By the time she got there, he had the artist smiling shyly at him, and Cameron stopped in her tracks.

"I'd like to buy all of your pictures for my gallery," he was saying.

He's in fine form, mused Cameron.

"I think you're one of the best artists I've seen in a long time." Clay purred.

"Really?" the girl asked shyly, her eyes locked on his.

"Really." Clay's hand rested on her shoulder.

Cameron knew she shouldn't be jealous, but how could she not be? She was becoming convinced that this relationship was falling apart. So soon? She couldn't let it!

\--

They returned to Princeton on Sunday evening. Clay was oblivious to Cameron's mood, especially since she worked hard to hide it. Over the next week she deluded herself and Clay into thinking that everything was fine between them. The weekend she'd been away had been a busy one in the ER, and the high numbers of emergencies continued into the week, so she was unaware that Clay had convinced the young artist, Anna, to move to Princeton, and was spending a great deal of time with her.

On Friday, they dined at Annabel's again. She was less enthused then she'd been in the past. True, the food was excellent, but it was beginning to seem...what?...artificial?...No that wasn't the word. Pretentious and repetitive! That was more like it.

"I've invited some people for dinner tomorrow night," Clay announced.

"Tomorrow? But...but..." She didn't know what to say.

"Oh, don't worry! You don't have to do a thing. Mrs. Stafford is handling all of the arrangements," he reassured her, unaware that she was more shocked that he hadn't told her about it than worried about the arrangements. "You have that exquisite lavender dress that we bought in New York. All you have to do is be there."

As the hired staff set things up on Saturday, she tried to stay out of the way. She might live there, but she felt like an outsider. She hoped that Kate and Don were invited so she'd have someone to talk to. Sure enough, they were the first to arrive.

Clay spent most of the evening introducing Anna to the other gallery owners. That is, until Jonathan arrived with a tall, elegant woman on his arm.

"Dr. Cameron," he greeted her. "I'd like you to meet Patrice Rousseau."

Clay appeared, as if out of nowhere, took Patrice in his arms, and kissed her long and hard.

 

Chapter 19.  
Cameron was more annoyed than hurt by Clay's insensitive behavior. However, Anna was utterly stricken. The poor young woman must have expected to follow Cameron into Clay's bed. Cameron moved unobtrusively to stand next to Anna. "He's not worth it," the doctor told the young artist.

Anna was taken aback. "Then why are you still with him?" she asked.

Cameron laughed ruefully. "That's a good question," she agreed, as she wondered if it was time for her to finally give up on the relationship.

"All of my beautifully ladies in one place!" Clay exclaimed. Cameron forced a smile.

But she was already deciding what she should do, and probably should have done long before. Cameron's stock had risen with many of the guests after witnessing her medical prowess during Don's attack. She was no longer intimidated by the artsy crowd and made it through the rest of the evening with ease.

Once the guests had gone, and the hired help had cleaned up, she didn't waste time. She confronted Clay immediately. "I'm leaving," she said.

Clay was speechless. He stood there in the center of the living room, staring at her in disbelief.

"I guess I'm not that good at sharing," she continued. "I'm moving back to my apartment. That'll give you the space you need for whatever's going on between you and Patrice. Oh, and I hope you stop leading Anna on."

"Allison, don't be ridiculous!" Clay wasn't going to let her go without a fight. "You belong here, with me. There is no reason for you to leave!"

"Clay, you've been very good to me, better than anyone has ever been. You've given me so much that I never had before, and I'll always be grateful to you. But it's over!" she said with finality. "I don't love you, and it's clear you don't love me either." She turned and left the room. Completely disillusioned, she finally realized that he couldn't treat her like dirt when it suited him, then turn around and buy her lavish gifts to make up for it.

She left immediately and drove back to her apartment, taking only the things she had brought with her when she moved in.

She relaxed the moment she walked through her door. It felt good to be back, despite the memories of the afternoon with House. Or maybe because of them.

She flung herself on the bed and immediately remembered their lovemaking. The way he'd reached around her and unhooked her bra, then ran his long, deft fingers down her back...

She shook her head. No, she had to put that day out of her mind. House was a complication she didn't need in her life. Cameron decided that she was giving up men completely. It just wasn't worth it! Not worth the aggravation, or the heartache.

September ended and October brought cooler weather. Cameron hardly noticed. She was too wrapped up in her work to think about any of the men who'd been in her life. She consciously avoided House. Clay was persistent at first, demanding she return, but after three calls, he stopped. He wasn't the type to beg.

Cameron talked to Kate occasionally when she called to check on Don's progress, who continued to do well. Kate invited her to the occasional dinner party, but as long as there was a possibility that Clay would be there, she wouldn't accept. She even turned down her invitation for Thanksgiving, preferring to spend the day alone, catching up on sleep and a book she'd been meaning to read.

\--

House had heard through the hospital grapevine that Cameron had left Clay. He wondered whether it was because of him and would have been convinced that was the case, if he was as egotistical as some claimed. But he also knew that Cameron had her doubts about the art dealer before their afternoon together. So whatever the reason, he approved her decision.

He wondered if she'd heard that Chase was engaged to the blond nurse he'd been dating, and if she had, what she thought about it. He wondered if she still kept in touch with Kate and Don Jeffries, although he never asked Don about it.

House had asked Don to join his weekly poker game, telling himself it was because he liked the man, and that it had nothing to do with a desire to keep tabs on Cameron. He found that Don was a formidable poker player, more of a challenge than Wilson or any of the others. Even after Cameron came to her senses and ditched Mud, he encouraged Don to continue to show up every week.

House knew that Cameron was avoiding him, and he also knew It was for the best. He'd decided when she first started to work for him that he could never give her what she needed, what she deserved. So he watched her from a distance as he'd always done.

 

Chapter 20.

On a Tuesday evening about a week later, Kate called Cameron again. After the usual pleasantries she said, "Allison, before you turn me down again, hear me out. Don and I are having a party to celebrate our twenty-second anniversary and we want you to come."

"You know why I can't," Cameron stated.

"This isn't like our usual dinner parties. The house will be packed to the rafters with guests. It will be easy to avoid Clay," Kate argued. "Please say you'll come. It would mean the world to both of us," she pleaded.

"I don't know. I..." Cameron bit her lip, wavering. She really liked the older couple and didn't want to disappoint them. "When is it?"

Kate breathed a sigh of relief. "Next Saturday at seven," she told Cameron. "It'll be a buffet dinner."

"OK," Cameron agreed.

"Oh, and no presents. Your presence will be gift enough. We'll see you then. Goodbye."

Cameron sat thinking for a while after she hung up. She realized that she was looking forward to seeing Kate and Don again, and she'd deal with Clay if she had to.

Her thoughts turned to what she should wear. The weather had turned colder after Thanksgiving. She could wear a dress with long sleeves, something more comfortable than the outfits Clay had bought her.

There was nothing in her closet that was suitable. On Thursday on her way home from the hospital she made a rare trip to the mall to look for a dress. She didn't have much patience for shopping so she was happy to find something quickly, a deep red wrap dress with long sleeves in a soft and shimmering fabric.

\--

As she drove out to Kate and Don's home on Saturday, it began to snow. The driveway and the road near the house were already full of cars. She had to walk through the thin layer of accumulating snow from the place she finally parked and was grateful that she'd worn boots. She pulled her coat tightly around her shivering body as she walked toward the welcoming lights of the Jeffries' home.

The door was answered by a young man in uniform, no doubt hired help for the evening. She welcomed the warmth inside as she removed her coat.

"I'll take those," the young man said, taking it and her gloves, scarf and boots. She slipped on her strappy heels and joined the other guests.

The living room and conservatory were crowded with people. She recognized a few, including Herb and Lucy who waved to her from across the room but couldn't get through to her. She found herself standing next to Jonathan Fallon and a pale-faced young woman with short dark hair, and very red lips.

"Allison, good to see you again," Jonathan said. "This is Sydney Atwood. Syd, Allison is a doctor." There was awe in his voice.

The two women smiled at each other, and Cameron asked, "Are you an artist like Jonathan?"

"Oh, no!" Syd replied. Cameron was surprised by the distinct English accent. "Well, unless you consider set designers to be artists."

"That's certainly a creative profession."

"And what kind of doctor are you, Allison?" Sydney asked.

"I'm an immunologist, but I'm currently the chief attending in the ER at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"Oooh! Sounds important!" Syd said.

"I should go say 'hello' to Kate and Don," Cameron said, looking around for their host and hostess.

"They're talking to Clay," Jonathan warned her.

She was surprised to see Anna with him. So, the young artist hadn't taken her warning. She was wearing one of the outfits Clay had bought for Cameron. That's interesting, Cameron mused.

"Oh, well, maybe later, then," she said.

Jonathan and Sydney drifted away. Cameron had forgotten how hungry she was until a guest she didn't know went by with a plate of food that looked inviting. She made a beeline for the nearest buffet table.

She finally reached the servers but before she could tell them what she wanted, a very familiar voice said, " She'll have the bacon-wrapped scallops and some French fries."

Cameron turned and stared at the interloper with a mixture of surprise and anger. "House, I don't like scallops!" She'd forgotten how good he looked when he bothered to dress up.

"But I do," he said with a smirk.

She'd been so worried about running into Clay, she hadn't even considered the possibility that House would be invited to the party. Why hadn't Kate warned her? Then again, Kate didn't know that Cameron was avoiding him, or why.

Cameron turned back to the server. "I'll have the salmon and rice, and a plate of scallops and fries for him."

"And I'll have some scallops," House added.

Cameron had to shake her head and chuckle.

"You've been avoiding me," House accused, around his first bite, although it had suited him just fine. It meant he didn't have to examine his own reactions to her. Still, seeing her now, looking positively stunning, he was quite willing to play with her and see what happened. And she did look good. He'd always liked her in red, but this dress revealed more cleavage than she usually showed.

She blushed at his intense blue-eyed stare. "I've been busy. It's amazing how the number of accidents always increases around the holidays."

His glare challenged her to come up with a better answer.

"Besides, there was no reason for me to see you," she went on.

So, she'd been afraid of what might happen if she did see him again, House thought and smiled.

"You both made it!" Don exclaimed, as he joined them. "Kate will be so happy to see you."

"Hi Don," Cameron said with a smile, welcoming his arrival.

"So, when do I get to see the new pool table?" House asked their host, abruptly changing the topic. It was the main reason he'd shown up. That and the free food, of course.

Don turned to Cameron with a smile. "How about now, if Allison doesn't mind."

She surprised them both and maybe herself when she said, "I'd love to see it too."

 

Chapter 21.

Don led the way down a hallway lined with original paintings. "Some of the artists that Kate has shown," he said, waving at them as they went by.

Cameron deliberately walked on his other side from House. She needed to buy time and decide how to deal with House. If he wans to play one of his games, I'll play along, she thought. She'd done it many times in the past. It sure beats tiptoeing around Clay all night, and promises to be more fun.

They entered what appeared to be a small guest room, that was dominated by a pool table with ornately carved legs. Don took a cue from the rack on one wall and began retrieving balls from the channels under the table, placing them in the triangular frame on the baize top.

"Do you play, Allison?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not well. Someone tried to teach me a long time ago." The sight of the table had brought back some fond memories of her husband attempts to teach her, that she thought were gone.

"Oh, give it a try," House encouraged her.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if she was setting herself up to be mocked by House. But she took the cue from Don along with the little white cue ball as House removed the frame. She spotted the ball and tried to hold the cue the way she'd been taught, then took her shot. The ball glanced off the others, scattering a few, but it wasn't a clean break. She pressed her lips together, waiting for the inevitable House snark, with the accompanying eyeroll.

The next thing she knew, his long arms surrounded her from behind. She stiffened.

"Relax, Cameron," he said. It was soon obvious that he was just correcting the position of her hands on the cue. "You'll have better control if you hold it like this." He didn't let go. "Aim for the red striped one." That was one of the ball that hadn't moved after her first shot.

She allowed herself a slight nod, then took another shot with House guiding her. The white sphere hit the red striped one dead on, and all of the balls scattered.

"Yes!" House exclaimed, finally letting go.

But before Cameron or anyone else could take another shot, Herb entered the room, very agitated. "There you are!" he exclaimed.

"Is Kate looking for me?" Don asked.

"No, we need Allison. Clay's friend Anna is violently sick."

Cameron immediately asked, "Where is she?"

"We put her in the other guest room. I'll show you," Herb offered.

Cameron started to follow, then turned to House. "Coming?"

"Can't you handle it?" It was obvious he was torn between wanted to stay and the chance to see Cameron and Clay together. In the end his curiosity won out. Maybe he'd be rewarded with another medical mystery to solve.

The four of them found Clay and Kate watching Anna, who sat on the edge of a daybed, clutching her stomach.

"I think..." she tried to swallow, "I think I'm gonna be sick again." She made a dash for the door, and Cameron accompanied her to the nearest bathroom. She made it just in time. Once she stopped vomiting, Cameron helped her wash her pale and clammy face.

"Feeling any better?" Cameron asked gently.

"I think so," the young woman said weakly.

"Well, let's get you back to the bedroom so you can lie down." Cameron filled a paper cup with water and offered it to Anna.

While they were gone, House took charge. "What did she eat?" he asked Clay.

"Let's see. I had some of the bacon-wrapped scallops, and also some roast beef," he replied. He turned to Kate. "Quite good, by the way."

"You idiot!" House relished the opportunity to call him that. "I didn't ask what you had. What did ANNA eat?"

"Why are you shouting at me? What does it matter?"

"What makes you think we care about what you ate?" House countered.

Clay fought to restrain his anger. "She didn't have the scallops. She said she liked them but not with bacon. Um, I think she had the shrimp, or maybe it was the salmon."

Cameron and Anna returned as he said that. "Yes, I had the shrimp," Anna confirmed, sitting back on the bed.

"Seafood allergy?" Cameron suggested, although it was unlikely if she'd eaten scallops and shrimp before without a reaction.

"Anna, do you have any allergies?" House asked.

"Just to ragweed. Doesn't everyone? But it doesn't bother me much living in the city, and never at this time of year."

"Or it could be a toxin or contamination," Cameron continued.

"Should we call the paramedics?" Kate asked just as Anna began to turn green again. "Anna, are you OK?"

Anna shook her head and rushed off again.

"How can you find out what's making her so ill?" Don asked.

"If there was something wrong with the shrimp, wouldn't more people be sick?" Kate added.

"Maybe you can find out who else ate the shrimp without alarming anyone," Cameron told them. "It would help." They both nodded and left.

House watched Cameron. She was so focused diagnosing Anna that, to his amusement, she wasn't paying any attention to Clay.

Anna returned looking even weaker.

"Do you have your bag? Where's your car?" Cameron asked House.

"I came to eat. I didn't expect to need it."

"I'll take that as a no." Cameron bit her lip. "My car is all the way up the road, but I'd better go get my bag."

"What good will that do?" House asked. "You don't need it to know that her stomach's upset."

"I can get it for you," Herb offered. They'd almost forgotten he was still there. "Silver Honda, right?"

Cameron nodded, and handed him her keys.

Kate returned as Herb was leaving. "Where are you going?" she asked Herb.

"To Allison's car."

"Have you looked outside lately? The snow's about five inches deep. Stay here, Herb. I'll send one of the servers."

"And then you can get me some of the test strips from your hot tub," House told her.

Kate nodded, not even stopping to question his odd request, while Cameron looked at him quizzically.

 

Chapter 22.

The next time the door opened, they expected it to be Kate returning with Cameron's bag and/or the test strips. Instead it was Don, bringing Jonathan and followed by Sydney.

"We've got another one," Don announced. Jonathan was obviously in pain.

"What's wrong?" Cameron asked him, concern etching her forehead.

"I've got a headache, and I'm a little nauseous," the artist replied.

"Did you have the shrimp?" House demanded.

"The shrimp? No. Just some meat from the carving station. Roast beef and turkey."

"Are you sure?" House asked.

"Of course I'm sure!" Jonathan said.

"What else did you eat?" Cameron asked more gently.

"Um, some fruit, you know, grapes and pineapple. And some cheese," Jonathan replied.

"Anna, did you have any of the same things?" Cameron then asked.

"No. Just the shrimp and some baby carrots and celery sticks," she told them.

Cameron and House exchanged a look. It was unlikely that two different items of food were contaminated, although there was a slight possibility for cross-contamination.

"How's your head?" Cameron asked Anna.

"Fine. But my stomach is still killing me."

"Did she have any trouble breathing before she started hurling?" House asked Clay.

He was so surprised by having a question directed at him, that he looked stupidly at House at first. He finally collected his wits. "Yes, a little."

Kate entered with the strips, but House just set them aside.

"Did you run into Lilly?" Herb asked Kate. "I haven't seen her since we split up to look for Allison."

"No," Kate replied.

House just ignored them. He wasn't finished interrogating Jonathan. "What kind of cheese?"

"Cheddar, and some really good Camembert. Oh, and there was something from Italy or Switzerland. I tried a small piece, but I didn't like it."

"I think it was Gruyere," Kate supplied.

"Did anyone else have any of the cheese?" House asked the rest of the people in the room. There were a lot of head shakes, but Herb replied "I had some of the Camembert."

House looked at the two patients, considering. "Kate, can you get samples of the shrimp and the Gruyere? Water for our patients, and if anyone has an EpiPen, it might be useful."

"You're still thinking allergy?" Cameron asked.

"Maybe." He was certainly playing it close to the vest.

As Kate left one more time, Lilly arrived with another of the gallery owners. Ivan Cortland was a middle-aged man with a round face, small eyes and a big mustache. "Ivan's not doing too well," Herb's wife said.

"I can see that," House said. "And what did you eat, Ivan?"

"What didn't I eat!" he replied with a chuckle, patting his paunch. He ticked off items on his fingers, "Roast beef, scallops, some of those potato puffs, cheese, crackers, oh, and ribs."

"There were ribs?" House sounded disappointed that he hadn't gotten any.

Ivan nodded, then clutched his head.

"Headache, huh? What kind of cheese?"

"Every kind there was! Except that Swiss stuff was nasty. I only took one bite."

"You think it's the cheese?" Cameron asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Anna didn't have any of that." As she spoke her cellphone began to chirp. She glanced at it and said a single word, "Cuddy", before moving away and answereing, "Hello?"

"Cameron, is there any chance you can come back to the hospital? There've been a rash of accidents due to the icy roads and the victims are coming in, in droves."

"I'm about forty minutes away in good weather, and we have a bit of a crisis here. Possible food poisoning."

"Well, I thought I'd try. I'm calling in all the doctors who can make it."

"Don't even bother to try House. He's here."

"You're with House?" Cuddy was incredulous.

Cameron laughed. "We're just both at the same anniversary party. You remember Don and Kate Jeffries. We treated Don a couple of months ago."

"Oh." Cuddy sounded unconvinced that House and Cameron just happened to be at the same party. "Well, once you clear things up there, if there's any chance you can get here, I'd appreciate it."

"Will do," Cameron said, and closed the connection. "The hospital's flooded with accident victims," she told House.

"Nothing we can do about that," he replied, shrugging.

Kate came back with the food samples and Cameron's bag, and Ellen followed with a pitcher of ice water and some glasses. House took the pitcher and one glass, poured some and drank it.

"I thought you wanted that for the patients," Cameron said. They both knew that, no matter what the cause, part of the treatment was lots of water, especially for Anna who'd been vomiting. Cameron handed glasses of water to Anna, Jonathan, and Ivan, as House said, "There's no way to do a tox screen or other tests, so we'll just have to do things the hard way. So who wants to be my guinea pigs?" He put on a mad scientist look.

"House!" Cameron struck an annoyed stance, hands on hips.

House rolled his eyes and said a grudging, "OK." He grabbed a shrimp and plopped it into his mouth.

"House!" Cameron exclaimed as his eyes rolled back, but he was faking.

"Those are really good," he said. "Now for the nasty cheese." However, instead of eating it, he just took a whiff, waved his hand in front of his face, and said, "Phew, now that's some stinky cheese! Guess we found our culprit."

"And?" Jonathan prompted.

"We know why you and Ivan got sick, but neither of you ate enough of the contaminated cheese for major problems. If you had, you'd be in much worse pain. Just keep flushing any toxins out of your system," House told him.

"I'll remove the cheese from the buffet," Kate said.

"You can tell anyone who's eaten any to come see us," Cameron told her. Once Kate was gone, she asked House, "What about Anna?"

"Ah, yes. Anna." House stared at the young woman, contemplating what to say.

 

Chapter 23.

"Anna, what's your last name?" House asked.

"Sorkin," she replied, frowning and looking puzzled.

"You're Jewish, " House stated.

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" she asked.

"You are?" Clay asked in surprise. "You never told me that!"

"Clay, you really are an idiot!" Cameron said. She thought she knew what House was getting at.

House was still focused on Anna. "You've never had shrimp before, have you?"

"No," she admitted.

"Or scallops or any other shellfish either."

"No." Her voice was a whisper. "My family is very observant."

"You're allergic," Cameron said."We'd ruled that out because we thought you'd eaten shrimp before without a reaction," she explained, shaking her head. House was right. Everybody lies.

"Guess you have a new reason to avoid shellfish," House told Anna.

"You mean I'll be OK if I stay away from shellfish?" she asked the two doctors.

Cameron confirmed that was the case. "You should be tested to find out if you're allergic to anything else."

"You could also stay away from Mud," House advised.

Cameron snickered, but it took a while for everyone else to get what he meant. Once Clay realized House was referring to him, he shouted indignantly, "House stay out of it! You've already done enough damage by poisoning Allison against me!"

"No, you did that yourself," Cameron said. "You tried to control my life."

Clay had heard enough. He walked out, leaving Anna looking hurt and letdown.

She was beginning to think she should have followed Cameron's earlier advice. But now what was going to happen to her career? "What about my paintings?" she whined.

"What do you paint?" Ivan asked.

"She does very pretty landscapes," Cameron replied for the artist.

"Well, there's always a market for those," he said. "If you'd like, I can show them at my gallery."

Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Cameron wondered, but it wasn't her place to protect Anna.

Soon they all rejoined the others in the living room and conservatory. The party was still going strong; most of the guests were completely unaware of the drama that had occurred in the guest room.

An hour later, when everyone decided it was time to leave, they realized how treacherous the weather had become outside, even though the snow had stopped falling.

"You'll stay after they go so we can finally get our game of pool in?" Don asked House.

"As I said, that's why I'm here," House replied. "And I haven't finished eating. I've gotta have some of those ribs!"

It didn't take long after the storm ended for the roads to be cleared and the guests began to disperse. While Kate and Don said their goodbyes and the staff began to clean up, House and Cameron each filled a plate and took a drink from the bar, then sat down side-by-side on a living room couch.

"That was fun," House said facetiously.

"Fun?"

"Admit it. You liked it better than bandaging cuts and setting broken bones. You always did."

Cameron had to agree. "Yes, I always did. Except for the mocking and harassment by my former boss."

"Hey, I played nice!" he insisted.

She chuckled. "Yes, you were a good boy. This time." She finally asked what had been bugging her. "Why did you request the test strips?"

"Thought it would be cool to use them to test someone's urine pH," House replied. "Too bad we didn't have to."

They continued eating and drinking until House broke the silence again. "I can't understand why Mud would give up a beautiful woman like you."

"I didn't give him a choice." She sighed. "He turned out to be an even bigger jerk than you."

House frowned, and Cameron smirked. "You should take that as a compliment. He was only interested in my looks and thought of me as another beautiful possession. You may have accused me of being perfect lobby art, but you also valued my opinion from time to time."

"I always valued your opinion. You should take that as a compliment."

She smiled at him even as she shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things." His eyes went from her face to the bit of cleavage she was showing.

"And I should have expected that comment." She sighed. "House, what are we doing?"

"Eating?"

"You know that's not what I mean."

He worked his mouth. Was this one of those times he should be honest and open? "Cameron, it could never work between us, not for long anyway."

She squinted at him with a determined look. "Do you want it to?"

He didn't answer.

"What do you think the odds are against our lasting?" she asked.

He smiled at her. She'd certainly learned how to put things in terms he could relate to. "Astronomical."

She nodded her agreement.

House kissed her lightly. The taste of pineapple on her lips went well with his ribs. She looked suddenly hopeful. Should he squash that? He found he couldn't. "It wasn't just sex, was it?" he asked her.

Cameron shook her head. "Every time I think I'm finally over you, something happens to prove I'm not. So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I'm gonna finish these ribs and then go play pool with Don. And you, responsible doctor that you are, will go back to the hospital to treat the fools who don't know enough to stay off the snowy roads."

"You could come with me." It wasn't a demand or even a suggestion, just his beautiful moral compass letting him know the right thing to do.

"I could," he said with a slight nod. "Although Don's got a wad of cash burning a hole in his pocket."

"Well, let me know when you're ready to start whittling away at those astronomical odds." She rose to get her coat and boots.

"Cameron," he called, and she turned back. "Drive carefully."

She smiled at him and continued on her way.

He watched her go with a smile on his face.

THE END


End file.
